


Silent Memories

by trulymadlylouist



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accident, Alternate Universe - College/University, Amnesia, Amnesia AU, Amnesia fic, Break Up, Car Accident, Deaf Harry, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kinda sad?, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Sad, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, a lot of pining, amnesia fic larry, it takes a long time for them to figure things out, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, long burn, lovers to friends/strangers to lovers, soft, vvvvv cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 82,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulymadlylouist/pseuds/trulymadlylouist
Summary: It’s funny how quickly one’s life can change, really. for harry, it’s a bag of sweet popcorn, soft kisses and a bit too much rain that flip his life around.before he knows it, he finds himself waiting for the love of his life to wake up in his hospital bed, and when he does, louis doesn’t remember any of the memories they shared and the people they used to be; and harry’s world shatters.(or, harry and louis have been in love for years. on a rainy night, harry begs louis to go out to buy him some popcorn, and louis crashes the car. when he wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything.)





	1. Silent Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Harry day! It's Harry's birthday and I'm finally going back to this work to correct everything and deliver to you the final result of months of intense work.  
> Please leave me your thoughts or suggestiongs in the comments, it always cheers me up :)  
> Leave kudos and share with a friend!

We admire those who keep on dancing even when the music stops and there's no one on the dance floor, because those people are the ones who keep on going even when all hope is lost.

They keep on fighting, must that be against their ennemies or against theirselves; because in the end, it's the same; at some point in our lives, directly or not, we all end up being our own enemy.

The boy never asked to be deaf, he just learned to live with his physical differences, because after all, wasn't Victor Hugo the one who assured that deafness didn't count as long as the mind heard?

You just have to talk to the soul, love them for who this person really is and not for their flaws, their disabilities or sickness.

Loving is taking a risk; and falling in love, this boy didn't ask for it either, that just fell on him like thunder hits a tree in a storm. He fell in love with him for a thousand and one reasons, but mostly for the stupid way he always smiled at him for no reason.

People say we don't know what we truly have before losing it. I think that's untrue, we all perfectly know what we have; the point is that we don't simply wait to lose it: he wasn't expecting to lose everything they had like that. And even though it's difficult to forget a person we love and who gave us so many memories, it's not impossible: life is an eternal mess filled with injustices.

Accepting the defeat means the end of everything; but as long as we know how to start again, nothing will be totally lost, not even forgotten memories.

Here starts a difficult fight opposing what we know and what we feel. What if we can't remember? What if people were lying to us?

You don't let go of your past that easily, because that would be like throwing away a part of yourself, but when the voice doesn't reach anymore and the signs are misunderstood, what's left, except for the heavy silence of hope?


	2. Silent Memories

The fight had just erupted again; the subject wasn’t any different, things were just more violent this time around: Louis was yelling angrily, even though he knew Harry wasn't able to hear him.

He just couldn't help himself, he couldn’t contain his anger. He was a mess: why did this curly-haired boy refuse to understand?  
The latter then started signing hastily, so fast that the older one couldn’t understand anything but the word « Stop », repeated several times.

-What do you want me to stop, fucking hell Harry? he cursed out loud, because he knew the boy would be able to read on his lips. Can’t you understand that I can’t remember? It’s a blur! You’re a blurred face in my head; a shapeless face that I had never seen before I woke up in that goddamn hospital!

-Stop, murmured the youngest, his voice trembling.

A voice that sounded lower, more uncertain and weaker than the few times Louis had heard it before, a voice that took his breath away: the word had just escaped Harry’s pink and shiny lips,but it had been enough to make his friend go silent.

He turned his gaze and shook his head, holding back in his throat yells of rage and despair. He attempted to walk out of the room, but his legs suddenly felt like fabric, and his head hit the ground heavily.


	3. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is deaf, so when the dialogues are starting with _, he’s communicating (or others) with sign language, and when it’s between «. », they’re writing! Enjoy!

**« The world is new to me every time I wake up »**

***

The room was still dark and quiet, the sound of the monitor breaking the silence. It had been that way for around ten hours.  
Sometimes, the door would bopen and close, letting in or out doctors, nurses and a worried mother, whose face got a little paler every time she came in.  
Only one person hadn't left the room once, sat on the chair next to the bed, unable to look at anything but the peaceful and tormented face that was laying against the white hospital pillows.  
The door creaked open, letting in a woman who noticed the boy’s presence right away, but he hadn’t seen her yet. She smiled weakly, biting her lip and walked over to where he was sat, tapping his shoulder. He jumped at the touch and his emerald eyes immediately looked up to meet the woman’s.

_ _Sorry, Jay,_ he signed quickly.

 __It’s okay_ , she signed back. _Did anything happen_?

The young boy shook his head and turned his attention back on the brown strands of hair that framed his sleeping face.  
He turned around and his gaze met Louis’ mothers’, an ice cold blue, just like her son.

__You should get some rest, Harry, you've barely slept these past three days._

__I’m not sleepy,_ he signed back while shrugging.

 __I’ll stay to.._.

She didn’t have time to finish her movements, the door slammed open, letting in a doctor; his semi-moon glasses falling dangerously close to the top of his nose.

-Mrs Tomlinson? he asked without even bothering to look at her.

-Yes?

-Your son, Louis, was admitted here four days ago after a car crash for.. cerebral lesions, cranial traumatism, as well as wounds and bruises all over the body, am I right?

The woman’s eyelids closed with difficulty as she nodded, waiting for him to carry on, hoping for improvement on her son’s state.

-The scans showed that -thankfully- nothing is broken, and the haemorrhage stopped, so his state is improving.

-Is he going to wake up?

The curly haired lad grabbed Johannah’s wrist and she quickly turned her face to him, remembering that he couldn’t hear the conversation.

 __The doctor says he’s okay_ , she let him know while moving her hands quickly. A faint smiled broke across Harry’s tired face, and he nodded.

-About that, madam, the intern continues while raising an eyebrow, we can’t be sure about anything.

She sighed, but didn’t reply, watching the doctor leave as quickly as he arrived and cutting the conversaton short.

 __He’s going to wake up, and everything’s going to be like before, right, Jay?_ Harry asks, moving his hands quickly.

_I hope so, she just answered out loud, articulating the word so he could read on her lips.

*

The night had fallen and visiting hours were already over. Two people were still in the hospital though,; two people who weren’t staff or patients. They were sat in room 648, waiting, eyes glued on the closed eyelids of the boys they had been watching for almost five days now.

Johannah had gone to the cafeteria before it closed to buy two meals, because as worried as she was for her son, Harry’s state worried her too. She had known him for four years, since that day Louis brought him home on a rainy day after uni. They were drenched and Harry had missed his bus to go back on the campus.  
A smile broke onto the woman’s face when she thought about how close her son was to the boy. He was different from the others but that made him one of the most amazing people she had ever met.  
Since the accident, Harry had barely eaten, nor slept, and the weakness was starting to show on his face, easily readable. Johannah couldn’t get him to leave the hospital, and much to her dismay, no one from his family called or was worried about him; he had been skipping class since the accident and wasn’t on the campus either.

Harry was still staring at Louis’ asleep face as if he was going to disappear if he broke the visual contact. His eyelids felt heavy and his mind was tormented, he needed sleep but fought to stay awake. He wasn’t allowed to fall asleep.

*

It was late, or probably early at this time of the night, when the second boy in the room opened his eyes slowly. He didn’t recognize the room, didn't recognize the usual lavender smell of his bedsheets, not even the the high pitched and repetitive noise that beeped at a steady rhythm next to his ears.  
Louis tried to sit up but immediately felt his whole body aching, and gave up on that idea, preferring to focus on breathing, after getting his breath knocked out of him because of the pain. He was surprised by the weight on his stomach; his hand tried to push back the pillows but he found his fingers tangled in a mass of chocolate curls instead. Straight away, a small whimper broke the quietness of the room before the- thing started moving slightly.  
His eyes still not accommodated to the darkness, he could almost figure out a boy's the sleepy face. A boy was sleeping the chair next to his bed, his face laying on his stomach.

-Uh, mate? he tried, his voice raspy.

He didn’t get any response or movement that could confirm the guy had heard him.

-Mate?

His tone was hoarse, irregular, which made the word sound more agressive, and another movement was felt, a movement that didn’t come from the boy asleep against his stomach. Fear started to run thrugh his body , and the idea of not being alone or safe in this room made him panic, and he gave up the calm method, shaking the shoulder of the stranger roughly.  
He immediately sat up, looking slightly disoriented before he turned his emerald eyes to look into Louis’ deep blue ones.

-Who else is in the room? he asked quickly, aware of the fact that he had indeed just woken him up.

He didn’t get any response, no movement either; the green-eyed boy seemed lost and shocked; he wasn’t moving anymore and Louis felt his eyes staring at him. He got embarrassed and stretched his arm in the dark to try and find a switch to light up the room so he could distinguish the stranger’s features, who still hadn’t said a single word.  
The mural neon light lit up suddenly behind him and both got dazzled by the light for a moment, only recognizing a halo of bright and crude colors. Tangled brown curls, green eyes underlined by dark bags, the person in front of Louis had his cheeks covered in tears, which kept streaming down his face.

-Hey, mate, are you alright?

The stranger’s eyes strained wide open with surprise, but he didn’t reply, quickly running a hand on his cheekbones to wipe away the salted tears.

-Are you sure you’re alright? Louis asked once again.

The curly lad’s eyes shifted to his lips as he was talking, and he ended up nodding his head, starting to move his hands quickly in a succession of movements that Louis didn’t understand. Seeing as he wasn't reacting, he repeated his movements, slower, but the older just raised an eyebrow, completely lost.  
Slightly disoriented, Harry got up off his chair and walked to the sofa across the room, where a woman was sleeping, laying against the wall. He tapped her shoulder and she stood up immediately , as if she hadn’t closed an eye one second. She watched the curly boy’s hands move, and as soon as he was done, she turned her head to Louis, who recognized her right away.

-Mum?

-Louis! My god, my baby, are you okay?

She jumped from the couch she was still sitting on and ran to her son, sticking kisses all over his face.

-Louis! Are you okay?

-Better when you let me breathe, pleaded his voice, muffled by his mother’s hoodie sleeves.

She emitted a strangled laugh et turned to Harry, who was watching the embrace with no expression readable on his face.

 __Harry? Is something wrong?_ , she signed, letting go of her son for just a moment.

He bit his lip and shot a look to the boy he loved, who was watching his mum with surprised eyes.

_ _He_... he answered _. He didn’t recognize me._

Her attention went back to her son immediately and she caught his surprised stare.

-Louis? You.. You recognize us, right, honey?

-I... he started. Mum, who is he?

A tear rolled down Harry’s cheek, who had read the reply on his lips, and he escaped the room in a hurry.


	4. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: sign language dialogues start with a _ symbol and written text is between « . » ! Enjoy:)

**« We have to take small decisions with our head, and big ones with our heart. »**

***

The boy didn’t go far away, he just let himself fall in the hallway, five feet away from the door, knees against his chest and face against the fabric of his jeans. The hallway was faintly lit, it was three in the morning and the night team had apparently finished checking this part of the hospital.

He was alone.

Silence engulfed him, as always, but it seemed even more heavy that night, as if over the fact that he was deaf, someone took his sight. He felt invisible, invisible and unwanted: the boy he loved didn’t recognize him. He didn’t recognize him anymore.

*

-Mr Tomlinson? the doctor asked. He arrived as soon as Johannah called him when Harry left the room.

-Yes?

-What day are we, if you don’t mind?

The boy furrowed his brows et shrugged, visibly undisposed to think; he was intrigued by the events that just happened.

-What year, then?

-2010.

The mouth of the man in white flinched immediately in a grimace that alerted Louis, but not as much as the scream his mother let out.

-Mum?, he asked.

-Louis, how old are you?

The concerned didn’t understand the usefulness of these questions, still answering that he was seventeen, had been for three weeks now.

-Mum, is something wrong?

-What was the last thing you did before coming here, Louis?, the doctor attacked again.

-Wait, why is my mum so pale? And what’s with all the questions?

-Answer.

-I don’t remember!

He lost patience and shrugged again, shooting a glare to the man.

-Mrs Tomlinson, can I talk to you, please?

Louis’ eyes widened with surprise and disorientation. What did he say?

*

Johannah’s eyes had closed as soon as she leaned against the hallway wall while the doctor closed the door. She already knew what he was going to say.

-Madam, your son...

-Suffers from amnesia, she finished.

He raised an eyebrow and she reopened her eyes.

-I am a nurse.

-So you figured he has apparently forgotten the four last years of his life; that sometimes happens after a cranial traumatism. However, his amnesia is only temporary.

-He’ll remember?

The doctor’s serious face immediately blew out the flame of hope that had burned in the woman’s eyes just for a short moment.

-Most patients remember, madam; but some take more time than others. I know a lady who, after two weeks, had gotten back half of what she’d forgotten. Obviously, her injury was light.

-But?, she finished for him, because she knew there would be an opposition.

-But, he admitted, sometimes, even after a few years, some patients never remember anything.

-And what do we do then?

-Just go with it; move on and not chase the past. I am not saying this will happen to your son, madam, far from it; at this point, we can’t say anything about that; but know that he has a fifty percent chance to get back what he lost. The cards are in his hands and the dice are thrown.

-So you’re telling that destiny will choose?

-I am saying he can’t give up, even if he doesn’t remember anything at first. He shouldn’t spend all his energy wanting to remember, it is not because he wants it that it will work; but the determination et willingness will be his allies.

-What you’re saying is contradictory.

-Because there’s no plan, Mrs Tomlinson. Some definitely lost when they gave up, others got everything back.

-So you’re not recommending anything?

-He can just spend time with what he forgot, that could act as a trigger element on his memory- excuse me madam, I am needed at the lower floor. I’ll come back to see you before noon if you have any other questions.

-Wait!, she called him. Can you... could you tell him?

Her eyes were reddened by sadness and the doctor looked as his watch, he had a control checkup in ten minutes to check on a patient who was in a coma, but he could take care of her request.

-Yes, he simply said before smiling gently and going back into the room.

Johannah was about to follow him but she saw a mass of brown curls a bit further in the corridor. Harry hadn’t noticed them coming because he just hadn’t heard them and his face was hidden in his lap.

She decided to first check up on him to see if he was fine before going back to her son, and she kneeled next to him, lightly tapping his shoulder and making him jump.

He immediately held his head up and his green irises clouded with tears met Johannah’s.

_ _Harry_ , she signed. _Harry, are you okay?_

He just shook his head, letting another stream of tears roll down his face.

__I talked with the..._

She stopped, not knowing the word for « doctor ». He signed something quickly and she articulated the word, he nodded.

__He told me Louis was fine, he just has..._

Once more, she bit his tongue and looked around her before spotting an empty tray where someone left a notebook. She stood up, grabbed it and sat back down next to the curly haired boy, who was watching her.

**« He said Louis was fine, he just suffers from temporary amnesia. he’s forgotten the last four years of his life. He thinks he’s seventeen. »**

She taps the pen nervously on the quite direct explanation she wrote, crossing it and shaking her head, knowing he could still read through the lines.

**« He’s okay. The commotion was just stronger than expected and there were some complications. I’m sure he’ll be allowed to go home soon but the thing is.. He actually thinks we’re in 2010, that’s why he didn’t recognize you. He’s going to remember, but it will take time »**

She read her second message, not much prouder than the first time around but still handed the notebook to Harry with a sigh. There was no way to announce to someone that the person they love doesn’t remember them.

She then studied the expression on the young man’s face; she saw him become paler the further he read. His eyes were starting to feel wet again et she didn’t wait for him to finish before taking him in her arms.

-It’ll be okay, Harry, she murmured in his curls, knowing he still couldn’t hear her.

*

The curly haired boy hadn’t come back into the room since he left it in a hurry and Johannah had gone back to her son; he was sat at a round table in the cafeteria and stared at his green tea, which he still hadn’t touched.

He didn’t want to go back up because he knew things would be the same; Louis wouldn’t remember him, he didn’t remember any of the things they shared.

And that scared him so much.

But above all these fears, all these a priori assumptions and regrets, Harry felt guilty. He was the one who forced Louis to go buy sweet popcorn for their movie; there was some salty popcorn left but Harry wanted the sweet one. It was raining and they had planned on watching Love, Actually curled up in a blanket on the couch that night.

But Harry hadn’t wanted to eat salty popcorn, because it made him thirsty and he didn’t want to drink water - the only beverage they had, they hadn’t gone shopping in a week. So he begged Louis, manipulated him with all the tricks he could think of.

As always, he had ended up agreeing, because Harry’s touches and kisses had made him weak, because his gestures and smiles had forced him to say yes.

At that exact moment, Harry found himself wishing he hadn’t had such power over his friend. He wished Louis didn’t give up and chose the salty popcorn. Oh, how he would love some salty popcorn right now.

It was his fault if Louis was in this hospital right now, it was his fault if he didn’t remember him. Harry had been punished for being needy, he was sure of it.

But he had also punished Louis for his selfishness, Harry couldn’t help but think that he had hurt the one he loved.

A hand brushed his shoulder gently and the curly haired boy jumped at the touch, looking up to see his friend’s brown irises.

_ _Zayn_ , he signed with a sad smile.

The latter sad next to him on the punch and pushed the teacup in which the teabag had started to crumble after so many hours in the now cold water.

_ _How are you?_ asked the newcomer, his tan skin glowing under the hospital neons.

Harry shrugged, his teeth nicking into his bottom lip.

__Jay told us, I... I’m sorry, Haz. It’s already hard for me, and I’m only his friend, so I can’t even imagine..._

__It’s my fault,_ was the only thing the youngest could sign before turning away his gaze so his friend couldn’t see the tears that were starting to well up in his eyes.

Zayn hugged him immediately and murmured reassuring words, even though he knew they wouldn’t be heard; at least, Harry would feel his breath.

After about thirty minutes, the hiccups of the boy stopped and Zayn stopped rubbing his back, letting a few inches between them and smiling at him gently. Harry’s eyes were surrounded with black bags, swollen and reddened by the tears.

__It’ll be alright, Haz, everything’s going to come back._

The youngest shook his head.

__He’s going to remember, and when you’re going to tell him that..._

He shook his head again, interrupting his friend who raised an eyebrow.

__I’m not going to tell him._

\- What?, said Zayn out loud . You have to tell him!

-No.

The shock of hearing his friend’s voice surprised him and Zayn blinked quickly before pursuing.

_ _Why?_ , he signed.

Harry knew Zayn talked in sign language frequently with him, he had known it for about ten years now, but sometimes, the dark haired man struggled to understand him. Only Louis could.

Louis.

Harry wanted to burst into tears once more but he held back, instead grabbing a piece of paper and the pen he always kept with him.

**« I’m not going to tell him. Do you remember how Louis was before? Almost homophobic** **. »**

Zayn furrowed his brows when he read the words, then grabbed the pen.

**« Harry, he changed completely after he and you-»**

He couldn’t finish his sentence because the curly haired boy shook his head again and took the pen off his friend’s hands.

**« But he doesn’t know me anymore Zayn! I disappeared from his life! He doesn’t remember me! »**

**« And? »**

**« Well, the Louis that didn’t know me, the Louis from 4 years ago didn’t love me. He wasn’t for homosexuals. If I tell him like that, he’s going to laugh at my face and erase me from his life for good. »**

__You can’t do that, Harry,_ signed Zayn while shaking his head.

__Why not?_

__Because you’re going to be hurt._

**« But I’ll have a chance to stay with him, at least. But if I tell him we’re together... Shit Zayn I can’t tell him that. »**

**« You’ll be hurt! »**

**« I know. »**

**« He’ll be mad at you once he remembers. »**

Harry shook his head and a tear fell on his cheek.

*

The two boys had been waiting in front of the door to the room 648; Zayn was waiting for Harry to gin, Harry was waiting for Zayn to take the first step.

He just didn’t feel ready to confront his loved one’s azure eyes. He knew he wouldn’t recognize him and he couldn’t take him in his arms or kiss him; and that was the worst thing that could happen to him.

The older one laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and the latter looked up.

 __Niall and Liam are already inside_ , he signed with a smile. _It’ll be alright, yeah? They wouldn’t still be here if it was bad!_

Harry shrugged.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and a blonde head appeared.

-Harry!, Niall yelled with a big smile and his usual irish accent.

The man smiled at him softly.

-I was about to go get some food, do you want something?, he articulated exaggeratedly so he wouldn’t have to sign.

The curly haired boy shook his head, biting his lip softly and looking inside the room worriedly. Niall tapped his shoulder and walked away happily, just like this day was perfectly normal.

That was what Harry loved with Niall; his constant joy. No matter the situation, the Irish lad always found a way to see the positive side of things; Niall always managed to make people smile even when didn’t have the strength to.

_ _Harry_ , signed Jay when she saw him behind the open door. Hey, Zayn.

-Jay, he smiled, pushing Harry inside the room.

The latter took a deep breath and closed his eyes before putting a fake smile on his lips and going in.

-Louis, do you remember Harry?, Johannah smiled while sitting on the chair, next to her son’s bed.

He made a face but nodded.

-He was sleeping on me when I woke up.

-Correct, he’s your bo...

-Stop!, Zayn cut her off when Harry started signed too quick to be understood.

-What?

-Harry doesn’t... I mean he..., the boy hesitated, turning to his friend.

Johannah’s eyes landed on him and he started signing again, a bit calmer, anxiety still written all over his face.

__I don’t want him to know._

_-What?_ , replied Jay.

Louis, who didn’t understand a thing, raised an eyebrow.

__I don’t want him to know we were dating. Tell him I was just his best friend._

-Harry!, she exclaimed.

-Mum!, said Louis in the same tone. Would you please be kind enough to tell me what’s going on?

-Harry doesn’t...

She bit her tongue, and with a last glare at the curly boy whose expression was clearly begging her not to say anything, she shook his head.

-Nothing. Harry was your best friend.

-Oh, Louis murmured with an awkward smile. Sorry, I don’t remember.

The curly boy bit his tongue and shook his head, letting the tears fall down of his eyes. He could easily read on the lips of the blue eyed boy, no matter how fast he talked; they had known each other for four years and he had loved him for just as long.

-Harry is, uh; his mom continued, hesitating.

-Deaf; finished Liam, who talked for the first time since they arrived in the room.

He had stayed in the corner of the room, eyes red and swollen too.

-Deaf?, repeated Louis. But... but I don’t know anything about sign language, how could I...

-Actually; Zayn cut him off with a sad smile, you were the best at it, out of us all.

His azure and tired eyes closed and he let out a sigh.

-I’m sorry.

_Tell him it’s no worries; assured Harry who had followed the conversation on their lips.

-Harry’s not mad at you.

Louis’ eyes shot open immediately.

-How did he...

-He can read on lips, his mother explained calmly.

The older’s eyelids closed again, and after a few seconds, Louis’ snores were the only thing breaking the silence of the room.

 __Why, Harry?_ , questioned Johannah.

_ _Because I don’t want him to hate me._

__But why hide it from him?_

__For the same reason._

__He’ll be mad at you when he remembers._

__Zayn already told me;_ he sighed while turning his gaze to Zayn, who nodded.

It was at that moment that Niall opened the door, arms full of crisps bags and a muffin in his mouth.

-What’s happening?, he asked immediately, mouth full, while disposing his treasure on the desk, then repeating his sentence in sign language.

It was clear he felt the tension in the room.

-Harry doesn’t want to tell Louis they’re together.

-Ah.

-That’s how much it affects you?, asked Liam, outraged.

-I understand why he’s doing that; he replied, signing as he was talking.

-But, Niall, they’re...

-Liam; he cut him off. Do you remember how Louis was before meeting Harry?

The latter opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Of course he remembered Louis’ behavior. He closed his mouth and sighed.

-Anyways, Louis never liked when people called him gay or bisexual. He was just in love with Harry, it was just Harry.

-Stop talking in the past tense; Johannah scolded.

-Just Harry, Zayn repeated, signing too. He doesn’t like labels, but if we have to choose one for him, he’s not heterosexual, nor gay, nor bisexual; he’s « Harry ».

That affirmation made the curly haired boy smile, the shake his head.

__You have nothing to add, Curly, he’s just « Harry », just like you are just « Louis »._

__Was;_ he corrected.

__He still is, just let him some time to remember that._

__And what if he doesn’t remember?_

-We can’t forget you, Harry; Johannah announced, laying a hand on his shoulder and articulating exaggeratedly.


	5. Chapter Three

**« One of the hardest things is to know if losing him is more painful than knowing he won’t come back. »**

***

One week had gone by since Louis woke up and to be honest, things were slightly tense and awkward for some.

Harry had come to visit Louis every day, staying most of the time on the chair next to the bed, watching him sleep. They didn’t communicate much, considering the curly haired boy’s disability, any sort of talking wasn’t possible, except for writing.

Eyes fixed on the last sheet of his notebook where Louis’ words were visible, Harry was just studying the new way he had to curve his « m »’s or the small circles he added on top of his « i »’s. Louis hadn’t been writing like that for three years but obviously, he didn’t remember that.

**« I’m sorry I don’t remember you. Were we close? »**

**« Yes. »**

**« How close? »**

**« You were my best friend. »**

**« Sorry. »**

**« It’s okay. »**

**« So I’m 21. »**

**« Have been for a few weeks, yes. »**

**« What day is it? »**

**« January 17th, 2014. »**

**« Holy shit. »**

A tear rolled down the boy’s cheek, he really had lost him. He had lost his best friend and boyfriend in the same day. He lost them both because way before they started dating, before their first kiss or their first « i love you », way before their first touches and the beginning of their story, they had become inseparable and shared all their secrets.

Harry had been the first one to know Louis felt insecure about his thighs and his bum, he’d been the first one to know he hated his voice because he thought it was too high and trembling.

The same way, Louis had discovered Harry couldn’t go to bed without a cup of tea; a cup of mango tea with sugar and honey.

But what was left of these memories now tat everything had been forgotten?

Nothing. There was nothing left, Louis didn’t remember anything. »

A movement on his right drew his attention and before looking up, he quickly ran a hand over his face to wipe the salty tears away.

Louis had just opened his eyes and was batting his eyelashes weakly, just the time to get used to the crude luminosity of the neons.

Their irises met almost instantly but the oldest looked away, looking down at his hands awkwardly, just like he had been doing these past seven days as soon as they were left together.

Johannah barged into the room then, breaking the heavy silence with a smile.

-Lou, you’re awake!

-Yep, just woke up.

-Sleepyhead; mocked Niall, who was following her, a croissant in his mouth.

-Pig, Louis retorded with a mocky grin.

Which made Harry frown.

Indeed, the oldest quickly became close to Liam, Zayn and Niall, because communicating was « easier ». However, because of something the boy didn’t understand, the oldest kept a certain distance between them, avoiding to look him in the eyes and the moments they were alone.

His disability was the only thing Harry could think of: it was what stopped Louis; his deafness.

He didn’t remember anything about his past but the three English men helped him feel more at ease and relaxed by telling him details about his life.

Liam had even brough several pictures of the five of them the day before, one of them was took during the camp night they had one month ago. On the photograph, the five guys were smiling so hard ; they were sat around the golden and warm flames of a fire. Niall was holding a guitar in his hand and Louis had leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder.

The latter had then bit his lip and left the room quietly because as beautiful as the memory was, it was painful. Off the five people present that night, only four of them remembered it.

-The doctor said you can leave tomorrow; announced Johannah with a smile.

-To come home?

-Kind of.

-Kind of?

-You don’t live with us anymore, Louis.

-Since when?

She seemed hesitant but just a look at Harry, who had been following their conversation by reading on their lips, confirmed her response when he responded by signing.

-Two years, she announced.

-But... But if I don’t live at home anymore, where do I live? On campus?

-Hm.

\- Mum?

Louis didn’t understand. If he wasn’t living at home anymore, with his sisters and mum and he didn’t live on campus either, where the hell did he live?

-No.

-No what?

-No, you don’t live on the campus either.

-Then where the fuck do I live?

-Louis!

-With Harry, Niall spoke before biting into his pastry.

The concerned’s eyes widened as if he had just seen a flying saucer and he immediately turned to the curly boy.

\- Why?, he asked, looking shattered.

The youngest just bit his tongue. He didn’t know what made him want to cry the most; just the simple fact that he didn’t remember it, or the mask of incredulity, fear and denial that was easily readable on the face of the boy he loved.

He quickly looked away, and Louis noticed his emerald irises were tainted with pain and incomprehension.

When he was about to add something, Harry raised his hands and started moving them in different directions, a succession of signs he had seen him make these past few days. His mum, however, seemed to understand him perfectly, much to his exasperation.

-Actually, Johannah repeated what the boy was signing, you moved in together because it was cheaper for the both of you and it was more fun. At first, it was a bet.

-Isn’t that a bit... weird? I mean; two guys?

Harry simply shrugged and after an hesitation, stood up, excused himself with a brief sign and left the room, head hanging low and closing the door behind him.

Louis stared at the closed door for a few seconds, lost, the focused his attention on his mother and Niall, only to notice how she was looking at him with a glare full of reprimand.

-What?, he asked right away, defensive. It’s weird, isn’t it?

-He’s your best friend, Louis!

-But he doesn’t talk and he doesn’t hear!

-Stop, she commanded immediately.

He was surprised by the adamant and authoritarian tone she’d just used.

-I’m going to... go grab myself a coffee, she announced, softening up after a few seconds, disappearing in the hallway.

-What’s with her?, Louis sighed, looking at Niall after a moment.

The latter shrugged, chewing on his last piece of cookie.

-She likes Harry a lot.

-But... Was he really my best friend? I mean, how did we... How did I learn sign language?

-He was the one who taught you, the Irish lad smiled, letting himself fall on the chair next to the bed.

-Is it hard?

-Ask him to teach you again, he would love it.

-Is it going to take long to learn everything?

-Maybe it’ll come back, as you’ve already learnt it once?

*

It was 11pm when Harry opened the door to the apartment after leaving the hospital. He threw his jacket on the armrest of the couch, not taking the time to turn the lights on, he walked to the room.

Technically, the flat they rented had two: one for the boys, when any of them decided to spent the night there; and the other, the big one, the one he shared with Louis since four years.

An immense round bed took the majority of the space, and a small wardrobe had managed to find its way in a corner. That’s where the boy headed to, opening the first drawer, starting to take out all of hoodies, jeans, and t-shirts, before repeating the same actions with the next three compartments and the hangers.

He took everything out, from the black trench coat to the red bandana, not forgetting his golden chain that was hanging on the latch of the only window in the room.

He took everything to the second room, the guest one, and laid his stuff in the pine commode next to the window. He didn’t even take the time to fold and order them like he always did, he didn’t have the strength to do so.

Louis was going to come back tomorrow, but Louis wasn’t Louis anymore.

Louis wouldn’t sleep with him in the big round bed; Louis wouldn’t hold him tight while falling asleep; he wouldn’t feel his warm breaths caressing his neck. Louis was going to sleep alone in their room, because Louis didn’t remember him.

A strangled sob went up his throat and Harry fought to repress it and carry on with what he was doing.

\- Delete any trace of their previous life so Louis wouldn’t find anything and start to panick.

He emptied their room, taking away all of his personal belongings, taking all the frames and pictures of them as a couple off the wall, taking off all the post-it notes on the fridge, which they had made a habit of writing to each other and even changed the background picture on their laptop.

The picture that had been chosen as background was a picture that had been taken without any of them knowing when the boys came over one night. You could see Louis and Harry, asleep in the big round bed, the first one holding the other lovingly, his arm curled on his stomach, his face buried deep in the youngest’s curls.

The boy’s heart clenched and he couldn’t hold back a stream of tears to start running down in face, blurring his vision and making his breath hitch.

So, for the last time, Harry put on his man’s burgundy sweater, going to the room that had been « theirs », sliding under the sheets and burying his face in the pillow that still held his smell.

*

Louis had been sitting on the edge of his hospital bed for five minutes now. He was alone in his room, his mum went out to fill out some papers and he hadn’t seen the four boys who were supposed to be his friends since the day before.

In a way, he was a bit anxious.

Actually, he was totally terrified.

He was terrified because he wasn’t going to come back « home ». He was indeed going to leave the hospital; but to go to an apartment that wasn’t his, live with a deaf boy who was supposed to be his best friend.

His best friend.

Usually, you know when you have a best friend, we know since the beginning that we’re going to be close to that person and tie strong bonds. We know we’ll be able to share great laughs and tell each other everything. But how was Louis supposed to share things with the one he had to consider his best friend, if neither of them could understand the other?

The only thing that Louis felt when he landed his eyes on the green eyed boy was uneasiness, uneasiness that was growing more and more in his chest and crushed his thorax. A feeling of breathlessness that made him feel bad, burned him, tormented him with no end. An acute and intense pain that made him feel hot and freezing at the same time, running through his body like an army of angry ands that were stinging his body, leaving wounds and scars.

And it was puzzling.

It was puzzling to feel that just by landing eyes on a boy who’s practically a stranger to you.

The door of his room opened suddenly, making him jump and tearing him away from his thoughts. His mum, a smile on her face, had just come in. She kissed his forehead and took a seat on the chair next to the bed.

-You ready?

-Hm.

-Lou?

-I’m okay, I’m just.. just.. nothing. It’s whatever.

-Tell me.

-It’s stupid.

-Louis.

At that moment, the door was opened once again and a doctor came in, semi-moon shaped glasses falling onto his nose crudely, his hands fumbling with the sheets of his notebook.

-Mr Tomlinson?, he asked without looking up from his notes.

-Yes?

-Everything seems to be alright; you seem to have recovered all your senses and your wounds will heal pretty soon. I’m just going to have to ask you to come back if you ever feel nauseous, have a headache or feel dizzy.

-Is that all?, the young man asked.

-Don’t go too hard on sports right now or your wounds might reopen. If you have any doubts, questions about your amnesia, don’t hesitate.

-Alright.

-Good luck, Mr Tomlinson; madam, he ended, finally looking his patient in the eyes and smiling at him briefly, then left the room just like he entered it: in a draught.

-Boo?

-I’m okay, mum, it’s alright. Should we get going?

-Are you sure?

-Certain.

It was a lie, he wasn’t feeling okay.

But he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t a disease that medicine or therapy could heal, it was more than that. It was a weight he now had to carry.

He couldn’t do anything but wait and pray to regain all his memories.

*

Louis was about to ring the bell to the apartment when his mum just turned the handle of the door and came in.

-But we have to ring the bell!, he exclaimed, looking inside furtively. We can’t come in his house just like that!

-Lou; ring the bell?

Reality caught up with him suddenly and a shadow of red ran through his cheekbones when he realized his mistake. Of course. Harry wouldn’t hear.

-Sorry.

-And, it’s your home too, she finished without looking at him.

-Hm.

He closed the door and noticed his mum was already going further, to an adjacent room to the big living room in front of his eyes.

He ran his eyes over the lit space. A white leather couch made the angle next to the picture window and a small television had been disposed on a wooden piece of furniture. There was a cream rug on the ground, where you could clearly see something had been spilled the dark spot spreading on a few inches.

The decoration wasn’t really coordinated, grey curtains and a red halogen were noticeable a bit further. However, the mess and incoherency of the colours gave a warm tone to the room, and in some way, that lifted some of the tension that was weighing on Louis.

A frame drew the young man’s attention and he let his fingertips run over the picture lightly; it was a picture of his sisters sat on the varnished piece of furniture next to the table. Charlotte looked older than he remembered, and that was what scared him: he didn’t even remember his own family.

He immediately looked up when he heard footsteps coming back to the main room. His mum was back, a curly haired young man following her.

Harry.

Louis bit his lip when he realized he was about to mess up again and talk to him, so he just waved his hand clumsily with a weak smile.

-You say hello like that, Lou, his mum laughed while signing.

The boy looked at the movements that his mum was doing and raised his hands, imitating them.

_ _Hi_.

His blue eyes then briefly met his friend’s green ones and he saw a smile break through his features, a smile that he returned before repeating his gestures.

_ _Hi_.


	6. Chapter Four

**« There is a language that goes beyond words. »**

***

Johannah had just left, it was five in the afternoon and the day was already starting to fade away. Harry was sat leg-crossed on the rug, and was tapping distractedly on the screen of his phone; his brows were furrowed and the skill with which his fingers were moving was becoming faster and faster.  
Louis, himself, was sat on the couch in an uncomfortable position, his back straight and he didn’t want to move. He didn’t feel comfortable and the lack of speech from the boy at his feet didn’t quite help.  
Harry could at least try and communicate or...

-Louis?

The voice that just spoke made the boy jump, breaking him away from his thoughts and his eyes immediately landed on Harry. He just spoke. He said his name.  
The curly haired lad didn’t add anything and just smiled shyly, trying to understand the different emotions that were showing on his friend’s face.  
And, to be honest, there were many: fear, shock, incomprehension, intimidation.

Fear. Where did this voice come from? The only person who was with him in this room was Harry, but he had never heard him talk, nor laugh. To Louis, his voice didn’t exist and he was obviously wrong, assuming too quickly deafness and mutism were always paired.

Shock. Harry had talked.

Incomprehension. His name; it was his name that made i through the pink and full lips of the boy in front of him. In a way, it affected Louis even more; because out of all the words he could have said, why had it been his name? And why was his heart beating so fast, as if he had just run the New York marathon ?

Intimidation. It was, out of all the things he was feeling, the strangest one to describe and understand; he just realized army could talk. Why didn’t he do it sooner? Why didn’t do it more often?

Louis wasn’t moving, he was just looking at the boy in front of him as if he had three heads and vampire teeth.

-Louis?, the boy repeated.

He didn’t dream, Harry had talked. His voice was soft and raspy at the same time, hesitating, trembling, as if he wasn’t sure he was emitting sound or he had doubts on the word he’d used. He just said his name.  
The questions came back: Why could Louis not breathe? Why was his heart beating that fast? The youngest’s movements brought him back to reality abruptly and he blinked a few times to see that he was handed a sheet of paper. He took it softly and after another look at his friend, read the sentence that was written on it.

**« Are you okay? »**

His irises met his immediately and he nodded slowly.  
The curly lad, though skeptical, smiled at him gently and started signing before stopping right in the middle of a gesture and shooting him an apologetic look. He took back the sheet.

**« You don’t look fine, are you sure you’re okay, Louis? »**

**« How can you talk? »**

**« I’m deaf, not speech impaired. »**

The words hit him like a slap in the face, strong and brutal.  
Obviously.  
He already knew it, but seeing it written black on white in front of him made it more real and violent, harder to take in than simple thoughts in his mind.

**« Sorry. »**

Harry just smiled at him, shaking his head.

 **« Can I ask you a question? »** the blue-eyed boy wrote after a few seconds of hesitation.

**« Of course. »**

**« How did you become deaf? »**

**« I was born like that. »**

**« You never heard? »**

**« No. »**

The unease that was starting to go through Louis’ entire body was unsettling ; it felt like a hot venom that was burning him from the inside. No compassion or sadness; it was something stronger and more destabilizing.

**« Don’t worry, I’m used to it, Louis. Let’s say that out of 800 babies, only one of them is born deaf. I just wasn’t lucky. »**

The concerned frowned and felt his whole body shiver when Harry’s arm touched his as he stretched to put the sheet and the pen on the low table. Louis flinched and rubbed at the spot where he could steel feel the electrical discharges as if it was going to stop them.  
Emerald eyes studied his movements, light and shiny gleams in his eyes showing his pain.

 __I... I’m going to make us something to eat,_ he signed, biting his lip and avoiding his gaze.

The oldest was taken aback and looked at him getting up and almost running out of the room.  
Shit, he must’ve felt his shivers and felt bad.

*

When Harry came back into the room one hour later, Louis still hadn’t moved; he was still sat on the couch, eyes laid on the dark screen of the television. He was trying to understand what was going on in his head and body, what was wrong with him, what had changed and what started these weird sensations whenever he was close to his friend.

The footsteps on the tiled floor brought him back to reality and he turned around to see Harry smiling at him.

_ _Hey_ , the boy signed, because he knew Louis would understand that.

_ _Hi_ , answered Louis, glad they didn’t have to talk about what had happened earlier.

The youngest started signing but stopped to point at a spot behind him. Louis furrowed his brows, but stood up when he understood Harry wanted him to follow him. They entered the kitchen and a look at the numeric timer on the oven let Louis know that it was already 7pm.  
Harry pointed once more at the room.

-The kitchen?

The boy looked at his lip to read what he’d just said and nodded before repeating his movements.

-I don’t understa... oh!

He looked at his friend’s gestures before reproducing them hesitatingly.

-That means kitchen?

He nodded and Louis let a smile run on his lips.

-Okay.

He let his eyes wander across the room and noticed the table had been set up and two enormous boards full of pasta were waiting for them. He immediately grabbed the notebook on the table and scrawled quickly.

**« You should’ve told me, I would have helped you. »**

He had barely finished writing the last word that a light and clear sound filled the room.  
Harry had read above his shoulder and was now laughing. He was laughing, holding his stomach and looking at him with meticulous care. Louis couldn’t help but notice the two dimples that were carving the middle of his round cheeks, giving him a childish look. A look that fit him damn good.  
And when he realized what he was thinking, his eyes widened and he looked away. Harry started calming down and grabbed the notebook to reply.

**« Last time, you set the worktop on fire while trying to make tea. »**

The incredulous mask that was now painted on the oldest’s face amused his friend and his attention was drawn to a dark spot on his right. Something had indeed been burned there.  
Louis was never good at cooking but he truly hoped his talents would grow better with time; that he would maybe be able to cook eggs, at least. But he now had the proof this would never be the case.

**« Was I also the one who burnt the rug in the living room? », he asked.**

**« No, not at all. I’m guilty of that, but it’s a long story. »**

The sudden change of behavior from Harry startled him but he didn’t say anything, still furrowing his brows.

*

The next morning, Louis was woken up by sounds of clinking glass and laughter. A muffled groan escaped his lips and he rolled on his side, burying his face in one of the pillows, bringing the blanket up to cover his face.  
But nothing stopped the loud noises and after a low growl and a dangerous rotation that almost sent him on the ground, Louis realized something; he wouldn’t spend his morning in bed today. The only thing he had was an aching back and a want to murder people.

-Fucking round bed, he mumbled while standing up, as if the piece of furniture could answer.

He quickly slid on light grey sweatpants without even bothering to put on a t-shirt, then slammed the door of his room and went to the kitchen. Empty.  
And the clock was only showing half past nine!  
He continued walking, ready to get angry at Harry, who dared make so much noise on a Sunday morning, but he didn’t find the young lad in the living room.  
Instead, he noticed three other people took over the couch, laughing loudly and eating. Louis coughed, loud enough to draw their attention to him, no really knowing what to say or do, and the blonde turned to him, his mouth full.

-Lou! You’re awake!, exclaimed Niall, jumping over the back of the sofa.

-Wow, uh, hey.

-It’s a miracle that you’re up so early!

-You guys were making noise.

-Sorry, Liam laughed softly. You coming to have breakfast?

-But.. How did you get in?

The Irish lad laughed again and dragged him to the table, where they both sat down.

-You gave us all a change of keys when you moved in, you and Harry.

-Mostly in case of emergencies, Zayn added with a malicious smile.

-And what was this morning’s emergency?

-Nothing left to eat in the uni fridge, Niall cried while grabbing another piece of bread. Reflection that made Louis laugh.

-By the way, are you coming back tomorrow ?

-Where?, asked the oldest, surprised.

-To lessons, obviously !

-Tell me I graduated sixth form, please.

The boy from Wolverhampton burst into laughter and he shook his head gently.

\- Of course you did! We’re all in uni, idiot.

-Cool!, smiled Louis, suddenly joyful. What am I studying? Science? Littérature? Psychology ?

-Music.

\- Even better!

Niall shot him an amused glare before biting into his jam sandwich again.

-Niall and I are studying medicine, announced Liam. Zayn is in arts; but you and Harry are into music.

-By the way, where’s Harry?

-He’s still asleep?, guessed Zayn while shrugging.

-With all that noise?

The silence that followed his remark made him realize what he’d said.

-Oh, shit. Shit. Sorry, I...

-Forgot?, smiled Liam softly. Don’t worry, it’s okay.

Again, the room fell into a heavy and awkward quietness. Louis’ white teeth sunk into his bottom lip and he started playing with the crumbs of bread on the table.  
He really needed to start thinking before talking.  
After a few awkward minutes of silence, only broken by the sounds of Niall eating at the end of the table, footsteps were heard and harry appeared in the room.  
His hair was still tangled and messy, looked tired and was wearing a grey sweatshirt that looked way too big on him. You could easily tell he hadn’t slept well, or not enough, due to the black bags under his eyes. His green eyes were slightly red and Louis wondered if he’d cried.  
Anyways, why did he care? He could have his secrets and cry alone at night; if something important was happening, he would talk to him about it, right? No? Yeah.

So Harry hadn’t cried; he probably just had a bad night.

_ _Hi_ , the boy signed to everyone, running his eyes over the room.

_Slept well?, asked Liam.

_Eh. Had better nights.

He looked at Louis when he finished moving his hands but regretted it immediately ; he was looking at him as well, an unreadable expression on his face.

 __I’m going to go grab a glass_ , he excused himself before leaving to the kitchen.

-I’m coming back, announced Liam, who stood up to follow him.

-I didn’t understand.

-Harry said he was going to get a glass, repeated Zayn softly.

-Oh.

Not a sound could be heard from the adjacent room, and the oldest wondered what they were talking about. And in a way, it made him angry, that Liam had followed Harry but he didn’t do anything. He didn’t know why, because he wouldn’t have been able to understand him; but he was supposed to be his best friend, right?

Goddamn amnesia.

He really needed to start learning sign language again; he felt terribly left apart when the boys were talking together.

-Niall?, he asked suddenly.

-Yes?

-Harry and I, we...

-You?

He shot a look behind himself to be sure the concerned one wouldn’t hear, and felt terribly stupid once again. He couldn’t hear, even if he was in the room.  
Zayn, who was scrolling on his phone, suddenly seemed interested by the discussion and looked up.  
Niall, him, had an enigmatic look, his blue eyes shining with hope.  
Why hope?

-Ugh. No, nothing. It’s not important.

-Louis, you can tell us anything, okay?, the Irish man smiled, not giving up.

The boy looked at Zayn, who nodded.

-It’s just that.. Harry and I, we can’t really communicate. Could... you or Zayn, or even Liam; could you teach me a few signs?

The flicker of hope that was dancing in Niall’s eyes one second before faded a bit and that intrigued Louis. What was he hoping for him to ask?

-Why don’t you ask Haz?, asked Zayn, raising an eyebrow.

-It’s just... At the moment, I really don’t understand anything so it would be really difficult. When I understand a bit more, I’ll.. I’ll probably ask him.

*

On his side, Liam, who had followed the curly haired boy to the kitchen, stopped behind him when he saw him stop in front of the worktop. Harry gripped the wood so tightly his knuckles had turned white in seconds and he bowed his head to the ground.  
The oldest of the two put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, which made him jump away a few inches.  
Tears were starting to well up in his green eyes and some had already fallen onto his cheeks.

-Oh, Harry, murmured Liam softly, taking him in his arms.


	7. Chapter Five

**« How many times does surprise need to be felt because it stops taking our breath away? »**

***

Four o’clock; the city clock had just rung four times and the boys were still in the flat, sat in the living room, on poofs, the rug or the couch. They were all staring at the TV screen and no other sound than the one coming from the speakers could be heard.  
Harry managed to follow without the subtitles because he was used to reading on people’s lips, and that intrigued Louis, who had been staring at him discretely since the beginning of Big Fish.  
The curly lad was maybe deaf, but he still understood every line and seemed passionate about the scenario, which seemed boring to the oldest. Sappy movies were never his cup of tea; but when Harry had announced his choice, he had just nodded to agree.

« -There's a time when a man needs to fight, and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny is lost... the ship has sailed and only a fool would continue. Truth is... I've always been a fool. »

The words echoed in the blue-eyed boy’s head and his attention turned back to the screen immediately. Why did that sentence catch his attention that much?  
Because yes, he was ready to fight, ready to fight to remember what he’d lost, ready to fight for his memories. But how far was he willing to go?  
And what if he discovered his life had changed drastically? What if something happened that- his family; was everyone okay?  
His destiny was getting away from him but he was ready to fight to find it back.  
No, Louis wasn’t an fool; he was determined. Determined to overcome that damned amnesia because he had to win that fight, he couldn’t let it win.  
He wanted to be able to find back the bond that linked him to the four boys next to hi, he wanted to remember the gestures that would allow him to understand Harry. He wanted to remember all the memories from the four years he had forgotten.  
The boat had maybe cast the anchor and went away, but it was still close to the shore. All that Louis needed was a rope and a run up strong enough to get back on board.  
Get back on board of this ship.  
Get his life back.

-Louis?, murmured Niall’s voice, who was sat next to him.

The Irish voice made him jump and he turned his head to him.

\- Yes?

-Are you alright?

-Why wouldn’t I be?

-I don’t know; you don’t seem interested in the movie.

-I am..., murmured the oldest, refocusing on the action and trying to convince himself. Yes. His friend didn’t add anything but saw the lie through Louis’ fake smile and confidence.

*

When the movie ended and all the boys were on their merry way back to the campus, where they were sleeping, the two friends were alone again.  
The atmosphere wasn’t heavy nor joyful, it was just awkward.  
Something brushed against Louis’ shoulder and he shivered, then noticing Harry was standing behind in awkwardly, and was handing him a piece of paper.

**« Wanna order pizzas? »**

A smile broke through the older’s face and he nodded.

**« An Indian one? With no pineapples and extra cheese. »**

**« How do you know? »**

**« How do I know what? »**

**« That I don’t eat pineapple. »**

**« I know you’re allergic to pineapple, Louis. Just like I know you hate to weigh yourself just as much as Liam hates bugs. »**

The boy raised an eyebrow at that before responding.

**« An Indian one. With no pineapples and extra cheese. »**

Harry looked up, their eyes met a smile appeared on his face, showing his adorable dimples.

-Should I call?, suggest Louis, avoiding his gaze.

The curly boy nodded and headed to the living room to clean up the table, taking away all the glasses and the bottle of soda that fed them all afternoon.  
The television was already shut and the sun was starting to fall, making the room look darker. The last rays of sun were reflecting on the mirror by the door, warming up the atmosphere with a reassuring shine.

*

When he got through the gates of the university the next morning, Louis didn’t feel comfortable ; he had no idea what he had learnt so far, his current level, and- oh no. What instrument did he play? He then grabbed Harry’s wrist, who was walking at his side and felt the familiar tingling in his arm. He immediately let go of him, embarrassed and bothered, but at least he’d caught the boy’s attention. Harry had stopped and was looking down at him, letting his eyes run over the spot on Louis’ hand where their skin touched.

-I... , murmured Louis, careful not to look him in the eyes. I was wondering... What instrument do I play?

The green eyed boy’s eyes fell down on the oldest’s lips, who repeated his question, embarrassed.  
Harry then bit his lip and tried meeting Louis’ blue and worried eyes; because he couldn’t answer with his voice, he didn’t trust his voice enough not to flinch or emit some weird noise.  
Et that was because of the electric shock he had felt when Louis touched his hand, the same shivers he felt when they were holding hands or when Louis played wit his curls.  
After a second or two, the oldest decided to look up and Harry bit his lip once again, wondering how he could answer without looking idiot and having to mimic a guitarist.

_ _Guitar_ , he finally signed.

-Harry, sighed Louis. I don’t understand.

That frustrated Harry even more and he wanted to cry.  
His Louis would have never told him he didn’t understand, because his Louis only needed to understand him. His Louis could interpret any expression on his face or any shine in his eyes. The Louis he knew was the only one to understand him to that extent.

He had been the first one to truly understand him.

But he wasn’t his Louis anymore. because his Louis wouldn’t have even ask such question and wouldn’t have seemed tired to try and communicate with him.  
Tired to try and communicate with him.  
Just thinking about that brought tears to his eyes and he excused himself with a hurried sign before running away.  
Caught off-guard and not really knowing how to react, Louis tried following him, but gave up quickly, watching his curly haired friend disappear in the mass of student. He was now on his own.  
He was alone in the middle of a sea of strangers, lost. His breathing was uneven, and as much as he tried finding his way out, he couldn’t; he was suffocating. He never liked crowds, and according to the way his heart was pounding against his chest and his lost irises were scanning the crowd, looking for any familiar faces; he concluded that fear hadn’t gone away with time. A wave of heat ran through his entire body and he felt sweat starting to appear on his forehead; his breathing was uncoordinated and he was spinning on himself, terrified.  
He wouldn’t recognize familiar faces, because he’d forgotten everything.  
At the moment he was about to pass out and let himself fall down onto the floor in the middle of the hallway, he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and pull him away from the flow of students. He didn’t resist, feeling too weak.

-Lou? Are you okay?, asked a familiar voice.

The boy looked up to meet Zayn’s chocolate irises, immediately relieved.

-Louis?

-I’m fine, he panted.

-I don’t think so. What happened?

He was starting to slowly calm down, his heartbeat going back to a normal rhythm; noticing Zayn had taken him to another small hallway, next to a vending machine, far away from the scary silhouettes.

-Louis, Zayn repeated, concerned.

-It’s just.. I’ve never been a fan of crowds.

-Yes, I know that, but why didn’t you just follow Harry ?

The memory of his curly haired friend running away resurfaced and he couldn’t contain his anger.

-He left me!, exclaimed he oldest, raising his voice and trying to sound more credible than a few minutes ago.

-What?

-I asked him a question, he answered in sign language and when I told him I didn’t understand, he started acting all lost and ran away! What’s wrong with him?!

-What did you ask him?

-I just asked him what instrument I played! That’s not a difficult question to answer now, is it?

-Calm down, Louis, Zayn tried to reason him.

-No! He must know I’m scared of crowds, right? Isn’t he supposed to be my best friend? Fuck, Zayn ! If he knew about me being allergic to pineapple, why did he not anticipate that?

-You’re allergic to pineapple ?, asked his friend calmly, surprised.

-Zayn.

-Sorry. I’ll talk to him, if you want. But for now, do you want me to help you out with the classrooms?

-No.

-What?

-I prefer going back home; I’m not in the mood to work or whatever today.

-Lou..

-Fuck off, Zayn.

And with that, the older lad turned his back to his friend, leaving through the glass doors as quickly as he could.

*

When the curly haired boy arrived in his classroom that morning, he was fifteen minutes late and his eyes were rimmed red. Trying to be as discrete as possible to avoid drawing everyone’s attention on him, he took off his hoodie, bowed his head down and walked over to an empty seat in the last row.  
He didn’t even remember what subject was being taught right now and for once, he didn’t care one bit. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel; and and he didn’t know what to do.  
Someone touched his shoulder furtively and he let his eyes drift to the person who was sat next to him.

_ _Hey, Harry_ , the girl signed.

Lily.

The expression on the blonde-haired woman next to him quickly shifted to worry when she noticed her friend’s swollen eyes.

_ _Harry_ , is everything okay?

He didn’t answer but simply shook his head from right to left, curlsin front of his face.

_ _What’s wrong?_ , she signed quickly. _Where’s Louis? Did he go home?_

Lily had known Harry since kindergarten, when he’d offered to play hide and seek instead of going to class. She knew him like the back of her hand, and she knew only one person could make him act like this.

_ _Harry_?, she repeated.

_ _Nothing, it’s just..._

He sighed.

__It’s just hard._

__But I still don’t understand why you still haven’t told him you were his boyfriend?_

__Because he would’ve hated me, Lily!_

__How can you be so sure?_

__I know him. Knew him._

__Harry..._

__I don’t want to talk about it, Lil._

__Whatever,_ she sighed. _But, where is he?_

The boy shrugged.

__Somewhere in the university._

__Do you want me to go talk to him?_

__He won’t remember you._

__So what?_

__Do whatever you want._

It was the girl’s turn to sigh; quite obviously, her friend wasn’t in the mood to talk so she just pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning her attention back to the teacher.

*

As for Louis, he had been walking since he left the building early that morning. He was now on one side of the Thames and a fresh breeze was brushing against his face, making him shiver. He only took a light jean jacket with him this morning because it was quite sunny outside, but the weather had changed and the sky was filled with clouds.  
He had been walking for around five hours now; he was walking with no destination in. The streets of London, catching buses and getting in random trains. He found himself in Camden Town, went back to Piccadilly Circus and walked all the way to Oxford Street. He then stopped at Covent Garden before taking the underground to Tower Bridge. That was where he was now, and stomach started making noises to remind him he hadn’t eaten anything.

Groaning lightly, he entered the first Starbucks he found and stopped at the counter, taking a moment to think about what to get, scanning the boards with his eyes.

-Hey Louis! The usual?, asked the boy behind the counter hen he saw him.

Hearing his name made him jump in surprise and he looked up to see a redhead who seemed around his age, who was smiling t him gently. «  _Edward_  » was written on his uniform. Edward? He didn’t know an Edward

-Ugh, hey, he replied awkwardly. Yeah, mh, the usual, please.

The usual? What did he usually order? All the questions that he had been trying to shut down had resurfaced. He sighed.

Fucking amnesia.

-Isn’t Harry with you?, the boy asked, frowning.

What Harry?, sighed the English man to himself. He didn’t have to be around him 24/7, did he? He may be his best friend but he wasn’t married to him; they had no reason to always be together!

-No, he’s still at uni, he replied briefly, grabbing his coffee and the muffin that Edward laid in front of him.

-It’s just rare to see you without the other, is he okay?

The brown-haired boy stopped his gestures and his brows furrowed. He shrugged. « Rare to see you without the other »? What was that all about, now?

-Yeah, he’s alright.

He walked away, shooting one last glance at said Edward and sat down at a table inside, in a warm spot.  
Why, out of all the coffee shops in London, did he find the one he apparently used to go to with his best friend before the accident? Was it his conscience that had led him to here? Was it some form of memory that came back?  
He just wanted to escape and forget about his problems, but in the end, they still found him.  
Instead of biting into his muffin, as yummy as it looked, he let his head fall onto his arms, sighing loudly.

-Tired?, asked a feminine voice.

He just grumbled a light « Urmph », not having the strength to meet another person from his old life. That Edward was already enough for today.

_Double cappuccino with sugar and extra vanilla cream?, asked the sweet voice again.

-How did you... he started, raising his head when he recognized his order.

An amused laugh filled the room and he stared at the pretty brown haired woman who just sat down in front of him. A joyful and intrigued look was plastered onto her face.  
She didn’t seem to know him either. She wouldn’t be another person on the list of people not to disappoint.

-Hey, she smiled at him nicely. I’m Eleanor.


	8. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a filler im sorryyy

__

**« Men are the same as dogs; they bite because they’re scared. »**

***

When Harry came back from the university that night, Louis was already at the flat, sat on the couch. His eyes were glued to his phone and he had barely moved when the boy had come in.

_ _Hi,_ he still said, not expecting an answer.

And he didn’t get any, he wasn’t even sure if Louis had seen him sign.  
Without adding anything, he headed to his room quickly and locked the door.  
He leaned against the door and threw his backpack onto the ground, unaware of the racket his heavy books made on the floor. He then let himself slide on the cool flor and brought his knees against his torso, burying his face in them and already feeling the tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

*

Louis put his phone on the armrest of the couch he was sat on and bit his tongue.  
Okay, he admitted, maybe he could’ve been a bit more open and sociable tonight; even if he had been mad at the boy all day for leaving him alone in the middle of a panic attack.  
On the other side, his panic attack hadn’t begun yet when Harry left.  
But the question remained: why did he run away? He sighed and heard his phone vibrate.

_From Eleanor: I don’t know, but yes, a week day would be fine. A movie?  
To Eleanor: Sure. I’ll let you know!_

He then heard something shatter on the ground, something heavy, in another room. Something was definitely up.  
Furrowing his brows, he threw his phone in the cushions and ran down the small hallway. There was only one person with him in this apartment and Louis knew Harry would be in his room.  
When he tried opening the door, he felt an obstacle not allowing him to do so, so he did something stupid. He called his name.

-Harry?

And he felt terribly stupid.  
So he tries pushing a little harder and heard a whimper coming from the other side of the door.

-Harry?!

The weight against the door was suddenly gone and Louis lost his balance, falling into the room, on the floor. He stood up immediately, feeling a nagging pain in his nose and jaw. His eyes scanned the room and he saw him.  
The curly haired boy was there, on the rug in the middle of the space, curled up on himself, and the only thing he could recognize was the mass of brown curls that were shaking lightly.

Looking around the room, Louis noticed that it was a chair that blocked the entry to the room and apparently, Harry hadn’t even noticed how loud he had been.  
So he approached him slowly and sat down next to him, unsure, laying a hand on his shoulder hesitatingly.  
Right away, the boy’s head snapped up, moving away from his friend before realizing who it was. He bit his lip, looking down and feeling stupid.  
Seeing he was starting to act more normal, Louis rubbed his back with his arm once more and moved closer to him, not really knowing what to do but trusting that little voice in his head that was telling him this was what he needed to do.  
And just because of that, he didn’t understand ; he should’ve been angry at these emerald eyes that were avoiding his, as if he was scared to let him see the tears and the redness in them.  
But he couldn’t, he couldn’t be angry at Harry right now, not when he was crying like that.  
All the speeches and sentences he had prepared throughout the day were gone. He was only left with an exaggerated compassion for the younger boy next to him.  
He didn’t try talking to him, he just hugged him tightly.

And that somehow felt normal; holding Harry in his arms, comforting him. It was weird that he found it normal, but that was what Louis felt.  
They stayed like that for a moment, the boy curled up against Louis’ chest, who had warped his arms around him. His hiccups were starting to slow down and the striped shirt that Louis was wearing was wet. He didn’t know why the boy was crying, but he figured he wouldn’t get an answer even of he asked.  
So they stayed like that fora few seconds, a few minutes, a few hours, Louis didn’t know anymore, he didn’t have any notion of time; and it’s only when he noticed the night starting to fall through the room’s window that he realized his fiend fell asleep.  
He was about to stand up when he heard the entry door open and voices fill up the apartment.  
His eyes widened in surprise before he recognized Niall’s heavy accent and he relaxed his body when he realized he wasn’t being robbed.

-Lou?, his Irish friend then called.

-In Harry’s room!

-Well, what are you two...

Zayn stopped his sentence when he saw the scene.  
The curly boy was still sat, safe in his friend’s arms, eyes closed and his head resting against his chest. Even though the position didn’t seem comfortable, Harry looked peaceful and the three newcomers smiled softly.

-What are you guys doing here?, asked Liam.

-I uh... Actually, babbled Louis, uncomfortable. Harry was crying, so I came to comfort him and...

He shrugged, it was obvious that the young man had fallen asleep in his friend’s arms.

-Harry was crying?

-Yes.

-Why?

-I didn’t want to ask, replied Louis lamely. And.. I don’t know how to.

-Come here, we’ll teach you a few signs.

-But uh...

-Do you want us to help you lay him on the bed?

-No, replied Louis immediately.

A bit too hurriedly apparently, because his friends smirked again.

-I can do it, just... I’ll be right back.

Niall shrugged and walked away, followed by the two others while the oldest bit his tongue and straightened up.  
He grabbed Harry and held him in his arms while standing up, heading to his bed and laying him down softly, careful not to hurt him. He then pulled the blanket up and before he could even realize what he was doing, he was brushing one of Harry’s curls that had fallen over his eyes.

-Lou?, Zayn called him, bursting into the room and making him jump.

-I’m coming, he replied quickly, turning away so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch his friend again.

Niall was sat on the couch when he arrived, a bag of crisps open in his lap, and Liam was watching the screen of the TV, focused; it was the music channel, showing the music charts of the week.

-Ah!, he smiled. We were wondering what you were doing !

-I’m here.

Louis sat down on the rug, and Zayn stared at him fondly, watching his friend who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

-Tomlinson.

-Here.

Laughter filled the room and Louis looked up, a bit lost.

-So, what do you want us to teach you?, smiled Liam kindly.

-I don’t know; I would just like to not feel left apart when you’re talking, actually.

-What about starting with the alphabet.

Louis pursed his lips and frowned.

-There’s an alphabet?

-Of course, you idiot!

*

It was now half past ten and the three boys were still there, trying to help their friend.  
The irish lad had requested and improvised a small picnic, and he was now munching on a piece of cake.

-No, that’s ‘ _yesterday_ ’. _Today_ , repeated Niall, showing Louis.

Louis repeated the sign and his friend nodded with a smile.

_// Niall was sat on the couch, laptop in his lap and he was tapping nervously on the keyboard._

_-Found it yet, Ni?, asked the brown haired man, impatient._

_-Lou! I’m already kind enough to help you, let me the time to- found it!_

_-Where?, exclaimed his friend, jumping next to him and almost making the MacBook fall on the ground._

_-Louis! Be careful!_

_-How do you say « I love you »?_

_The irish man sighed, looking up at him._

_-There are a few different versions, actually. Which one do you want?_

_-The most sincere one._

_-Then it’s this one, he declared while pointing at a succession of pictures._

_The oldest studied them for a moment before turning to Niall._

__I love you._

_-That’s it._

__I love you._

_-Lou, it’s becoming weird._

_His friend laughed and repeated the movements one last time and Niall nodded._

_-You got it. //_

-Louis?, called Zayn, worried.

-Niall!, the older boy exclaimed.

-Uh, yes?

__I love you._

The Irish man’s eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow.

-Why are you telling me you love me?

-That’s not why I said it! I remembered it!

-You remembered something?, asked Liam, crawling closer to his friend.

-Yes! Niall! You were looking up with me how to say « I love you » in sign language!

-I remember! You were actually quite stressed that day, mocked the boy with an amused smile.

-Why?

-You don’t remember why you were looking up that?, he then asked, any trace of joy leaving his face.

-No, why?

-Oh... uh. It’s- whatever.

-But you remembered something!, exclaimed Zayn, trying to lift the mood up.

-I have to call my mum, Louis announced, still smiling widely.

*

A hand grabbed the curly boy’s wrist the next day as he was walking in the hallways of the university, heading to the cafeteria.

_ _Hey, Lil,_ Harry smiled.

__Hey, are you alone?_

__My friend the ghost is following me closely, don’t worry._

The young lady smiled and she followed him to the counter, watching him buy a sandwich.

__Isn’t Louis here?_

__He said he didn’t want to come._

__Oh. Are you feeling better?_

__I try._

__Harry.._

__I’m okay, Lily._

-Hey Lily!, exclaimed Liam, sitting down on a chair next to them.

-Hey, Li. You alright?

-Amazing. I have a three-hour break to eat, then one hour practice; starting the week good!

 __Isn’t Ni here?_ , asked Harry.

__He is, he’s-_

_Hi!, the irish man appeared next to them. _Where’s Lou?_

__He didn’t want to come today, I didn’t insist._

__Did you t alk this morning?_

_-Why?_

Liam shrugged.

__No, not really, the boy sighed sadly._

*

When he came back to the flat that night, the door was locked, which meant Louis wasn’t home.  
He dropped his trench coat on the armrest and threw his bag next to the sofa; heading to the kitchen to make himself some tea.

Once the honey and sugar started to dissolve into the hot water, reality caught up to him and he froze; there was no tea left. He was supposed to go grocery shopping a few days ago, but he kept on pushing it back to the next a day, because in theory, it wasn’t his turn to go.  
Sighing, he emptied the cup in the sink, a bit too harshly apparently because it broke. And he couldn’t use it anymore.  
It was at that moment he realized it was the cup he and Louis had bought when they went to Paris together last year.  
He opened his booth to swear but nothing came out because he was running out of air.  
His memories were going to go away too if Louis didn’t remember. They would go away because he couldn’t keep them eternally. He shouldn’t keep them.  
What was going to happen if the love of his life never remembered him?  
He suddenly felt a presence and turned, noticing Louis next to him, a pack of popcorn in his hand.  
The curly boy’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t seen him and tears started welling up in his eyes. Popcorn.

_ _Hey_ , signed Louis gently.

And the tears started rolling down Harry’s cheeks.  
The scene was so similar to their previous life, he almost wanted to believe everything was back to normal. He could maybe let himself sink back into his memories, walk to where Louis was standing and press their lips together, rub his neck and play with his brown strands of hair.  
But he didn’t do any of that.  
He didn’t, because he knew Louis didn’t love him back. Not anymore.

__Harry, are you okay?_

The boy didn’t even notice the new signs his friend had used and ran out of the kitchen hastily, bumping into Louis on this way and slamming the door before rushing down the stairs.

-Harry?, Louis called, following him to the living room even though he knew he was now alone.

What had just happened? Did he say something he shouldn’t have?  
Three hours later, the night had fallen and Louis still didn’t know where his friend was, which started to worry him.  
He didn’t why; after all, Harry was nineteen, he was perfectly able to take care of himself. But a little part inside of him was screaming that Louis should go and look for him. He knew his role was to protect him; to protect his best friend.  
And not knowing where the curly haired boy was, that really worried Louis.  
So he grabbed his phone, ignoring Eleanor’s text and scrolled down his repertory until he found Liam’s number, who picked up at the second ring.

-Louis?

-Hey, he answered. Tell me, did you see Harry today?

-At uni this morning, yes, why?

-No, I mean, since you came back?

-No. Is something wrong?

-It’s just that he.. He left when I came back home and he still isn’t here.

-Did he tell you where he was going?

-We didn’t... Actually, we didn’t really talk.

-What do you mean?

-Well, I still he was crying. Again.

-He was crying?

-What the hell is happening, Liam? Is there something you’re not telling me?

-Calm down, Louis. He’ll come back, I’m calling the other boys to know if they have news, alright?

He had avoided the question, but the oldest didn’t seem to notice because the door had just opened.

-Wait, the door- Fuck, Harry!, he yelled to the boy, who was closing the door. He hung up without saying goodbye, and rushed to the entry door. The green eyes that met his were dry and empty, as if he had spent a good moment trying to hide his tears. But that wasn’t really working, because his eyes were red and swollen.

-Fuck, Harry, what’s wrong with you?, he yelled, pushing him against the wood.

The youngest, taken aback, looked up to look at his friend, who repeated his words.

-Why did you leave like that? You could at least have told me where you were going, couldn’t you?!

-Sorry.

Louis’ grip on the young boy loosened and he stepped back, anger quickly leaving his face.

-Wh-what?

-Sorry, repeated the boy, walking away.

The words echoed in his head, his deep and raspy voice, low and trembling. An hesitating voice that he was hearing for the second time. A beautiful voice.  
It was then that Louis noticed he was drenched, his curls soaked in water that was dripping down on the white tiles, and his arms wrapped around his trembling self.

-Fuck, he sighed.

He walked over to the couch and grabbed a blanked, which he draped over his friend’s shoulders when the latter entered the kitchen to drop a plastic bag on the table. He shivered when his arm touched Louis’ and he then grabbed a notebook to write down a few words, before heading to his room.

**« Went to buy Chinese. I took you your favorite noodles, you just have to heat them up. Going to change. »**

-Fuck everything, repeated Louis, kicking into a chair.

So he put the food into the microwave, staying in front of it, ready to open it in case it started to burn.  
When the device beeped, the curly haired boy appeared in the kitchen, grabbing chopsticks in one of the drawers before leaving the room again. Louis bit his lip and followed him, bringing their meal to the couch, where the youngest was sat, wearing his usual grey sweater, the one that was way to big on him.

They ate their dinner without any of them trying to start a conversation, and much to Harry’s surprise, it was Louis who gave up first.

**« You could have warned me. I called Liam because I was wondering where you were. »**

**The boy stared at the words as if he didn’t understand them before grabbing the pen.**

**« I just need to go for a walk. I’m nineteen, and you’re not my dad. »**

**« Why are you angry? »**

**« I’m not. »**

**« Yes you are. »**

**« Anyway, if that’s how you want to see things, I have the right to ask where you were all day, because apparently you’re not interested in classes anymore. »**

**« That’s not what this is about. »**

**« You didn’t answer the question. »**

**« I went to the cinema. »**

The curly haired boy nodded; noticing his friend’s phone had just vibrated, he got a text.


	9. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYY big chapter!! please leave me comments if you have a minute, they truly made my day ! :) also, thank you to the ones leaving kudos!

**« It’s in the silence that follows the storm, and not in the one that precedes it, that you have to look for the flower in bud. »**

***  
The following days went by slowly, Louis didn’t remember anything more. He tried his hardest to remember; anything would have been enough, any stupid little thing that was a part of his daily life for four years; but nothing.

Silence was still his only flashback.

It was the weekend, Louis hadn’t gone back to uni since monday. Not because he didn’t want to, more because he was dreading it. He kept pushing the task to the next day , and Saturday had arrived sooner than he thought.

He’d go on Monday.

Instead, he’d walked around the city, went shopping and went to get drinks with Eleanor. She was nice, Eleanor, she wasn’t expecting anything from him, didn’t seem to be waiting for some kind of improvement. Because in a way, that’s what they were all expecting of him, right?

They wanted him to remember.

Footsteps on the kitchen floor brought him back to reality, just to see Harry enter the room, curls tangled and messy and eyes still tired. His mouth stretched in a yawn, and he closed it as soon as he saw his friend.

 __You’re already up?,_ he signed.

Louis raised an eyebrow.

_ _Sorry?_

__Wait._

The curly haired boy rubbed his eyes, grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen before starting to write quickly and handing it to him.

**« How come you’re up so early? »**

**« Fell off the bed. Why is it round, fucking stupid! »**

**« You were the one who forced me to buy a round bed. »**

**« Me? »**

-Harry, Harry !, the boy imitated. A round bed!

The oldest burst out laughing and shook his head gently, listening to his friend’s voice, amazement in his eyes. How could a deaf person have such a beautiful voice? You might think it was excessively hoarse, deep, hesitant and distant. Harry’s voice wasn’t like that, he didn’t have the voice of a deaf person.

Yes, Harry’s voice was raspy, but it had a husky tone to it, it was calming.

Yes, Harry’s voice was deep, but it echoed it your head and you could never forget it, just like a Tennyson poem.

Yes, Harry’s voice was hesitant, but that hesitation brought a mysterious and enchanting charm.

Yes, Harry’s voice was distant, but beautifully so.

Harry didn’t have the voice of a deaf person, Harry had his own voice, an unique one.

_ _That’s not true,_ the older boy retorted with a mocking smile.

__Yes, it is._

__No, it’s not._

__Yes._

__No._

-Harry! Harry!, he repeated once more before laughing loudly.

Louis bit his tongue and stared at the curve of the boy’s boys pink and full lips, the perfect alignment of his white teeth and the tiny dimples that were showing on each side of his face. Fuck, why did he feel like his mind was totally uncontrollable whenever he was near these green eyes.

*

-Louis?, called someone from the living room.

-In my room!

The Irish boy burst into the room and threw himself on the bed, making the wooden slats creak.

-Niall!

-Louis!

-My bed!, complained the oldest.

-It’s not even..

He shut his mouth immediately, not finishing his sentence and shooting a quick glare to his friend. He had almost slipped.

-Not what?

-No, nothing. Um. The boys are on their way, I left before them because I was hungry, but your fridge is empty!

-Harry’s fault.

-About that, where is he?

Louis shrugged and pointed to the door of his room, buttoning his blue shirt with his other hand.

-You’re getting on better now?

-We were never ennemies.

-I know, smiled Niall. But, about the language, the signs, and stuff. Did it help you?

-We can communicate a bit, but it’s still...

-Hard.

-Yeah.

At that moment, they heard a gigantic crash and the two men turned their heads to the other side of the hallway. The first one ran to his friend’s room while the other one headed back to the kitchen.

Harry was there, biting his lip, a pan laying on the ground, surrounded by several liters of water. The tiles were smoking hot; apparently, the water was boiling, and the boy’s hands were shaking.

-Harry!, the irish man exclaimed, approaching the youngest.

He laid a hand on his shoulder, which made him jump out of his trance, and the brown haired boy looked up with guilty eyes.

 __I’m sorry_ , he signed hastily.

_ _Harry! It’s alright, what happened?_

-Harry? Niall? Everything okay?, called Louis, entering the kitchen and widening his eyes.

The first one turned his head suddenly, feeling the oldest’s presence even though he didn’t hear him, and he articulated a small « sorry » that broke his heart.

_ _Help_?, suggested his friend, using the only word he knew to express what he wanted.  
  
Harry shook his head negatively, pulling himself back together and smiling softly.

He signed hastily, and Louis didn’t understand, but according to the nod that Niall gave, he was the only one.

-Where did he go?, he asked when his friend left.

-He said he was going to put some cold water on his hand, he burned himself.

-Shit..

-Yeah. His phone vibrated in his pocket and it made him jump.

The entry door opened suddenly and laughter filled the room, accompanying the newcomers.

-Lou?, called Liam immediately.

-Kitchen!, he replied.

The two English men arrived with a smile, which quickly went away went they saw the room.

-What happened here?

-Just Harry dropping a pan full of boiling water.

-I brought lunch, smiled Zayn, putting three big bags from Starbucks on the counter.

-My love!, hummed Niall,stopping what he was doing to throw his arms around his friend. I love you!

Zayn laughed and hugged him back. Niall then let go of the boy to take a look at the food.

Louis raised an eyebrow.

-Ni texted me seven times begging me to bring back something, apparently it’s famine here.

-Oh. I’ll go grocery shopping this afternoon.

-Where’s Hazza, by the way?, asked Liam, following Niall’s steps.

-Bathroom, he’s coming, he announced. Go get some food, I’ll join you, just gotta clean up the mess.

-Need help?

-Nah, I’m good.

Louis had just thrown the last drenched tissue in the trash when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned over and noticed with a smile that Harry was staring at him, leaning against the door, arms crossed and his teeth nicking into his bottom lip.

\- Are you okay?, he articulated out loud, softly, to let him the time to read on his lips.

At that moment, the curly haired boy seemed to be brought out of his thoughts and he looked away, not answering the question. Louis approached, raising an eyebrow and pointing towards his hand.

-Are you okay?

Harry looked down at his red palm then nodded, before turning his back to Louis and heading to the living room, where the rest of the group was.

*

-Pasta, asked Liam.

-Harry just left to get some.

-Eggplants?

-I don’t like them, complained Louis.

-But it’s...

// Louis burst out laughing when he saw the frown on his friend’s face.

-Liam, don’t pout, I’ll cook you potatoes with..

-Shh! Don’t say anything! Last time, you managed tu burn a slice of pizza just by putting it in the microwave.

-I’m trying, though. No one should hold that against me, he complained.

-In the microwa-

-No one, Liam, I said no one!

Laughter filled the fruit and vegetables aisle.

-We’re still buying eggplants, Harry will cook them, decided Liam.

He grabbed a plastic bag but Louis stole it from him, putting his hands on his hips strictly.

-You’re not the one living with him, so he’s going to cook them for me. Liam, no eggplant.

-It’s written on the list.

-But I’m the one doing the groceries.

-Louis, he sighed.

-Liam.

-Harry’s going to kill you.

-I have an idea on how to cheer him up, don’t worry about that...

Liam’s eyes widened suddenly and he burst out laughing, shaking his head.

-Shut up, stop there, I understand. You win, no eggplant. //

-Lou?, asked Liam, worried.

He was shaking his hand in front of the oldest’s eyes; and he blinked a few times before coming back to reality, taking a few steps back.

-Hm?

-You okay?

-Uh. Yes. I- Liam? Did we go grocery shopping often, you and me; before?

The boy furrowed his brows and it was then that Harry came back, holding razor blades, soap and spaghettis.

 __Everything alright?_ , he asked, signing.

__I think. Louis?_

The latter nodded but he knew his friends could see right through his lie.

-Lou?, asked Harry.

His blue eyes met anxious green and he didn’t look away. Instead, he answered sincerely, as if he needed to.

-I think.. I think I just remembered something.

-Really?, exclaimed Liam, who was now smiling widely.

The curly haired boy started smiling too, eyes still locked with his friend’s and Louis could now see his two dimples. How was this boy so adorable?

-We were here, I was grocery shopping with Liam; I didn’t want to buy- um, eggplants?

-Yes, that happened quite often!

Liam translated their conversation to Harry, who had to break the visual contact to understand. Then, his eyes started shining and when they met Louis’ blue ones again, he could swear he felt his heart miss a beat.

*

It was late when the boys headed back to the campus that night. Usually, they would stay the night at the flat, but nothing was ‘usual’ now. Louis slept in their room alone and Harry in the guest room, so Zayn, Niall and Liam had no choice but to leave.

His phone showed one in the morning, the TV clock said 00:58.

Harry had fallen asleep on the couch while they were watching ‘Fight Club’, head in Niall’s lap. From then, the movie had absolutely no interest to Louis, who just kept shooting jealous looks to them.

Why did the boy choose to cuddle with Niall? Why not him? He was just there.

And it was ridiculous, why did it matter? Harry was his friend. That was it; nothing more. There was no reason as to why his stomach hurt, that intense and burning feeling that had been torturing him all night. The butterflies in his belly could go to hell.

So, when the boys left the apartment and Louis was the only one awake, he wondered if he should go back to his room or shake the ass of chocolate curls to tell him to go to bed.

But the tiredness ended up winning over the rest of his feelings, he draped a thin blanket over his friend, and after making sure he wouldn’t be cold, headed to his room and crawled under the cool but soft blanket, relishing in the lavender smell.

*

It was a deafening sound that woke him up that night. A sound similar to a building collapsing that made him jump in surprise. His eyes scanned the room quickly and the darkness around him was soon lit up for a short moment.

And he understood. Louis understood what woke him up.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6..  
VLLAAAMMMM.

The sound resounded, strong, harsh, and the English man let out an agonizing scream, immediately hiding under the blanket, trembling and trying to find a way to calm down.

It had been raining for hours, but no one had mentioned a storm. But it was mad outside, he could hear it.

He heard every single drop that was hitting the sidewalk, every single gust that made the branches of the trees shake, every single car slowing down, their tires going through puddles of water, shutters slamming against the wall.

No matter how thick his shelter was, he could still see the thunder lighting up the room and started counting nervously.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. VLLAAAMMMM!

The storm was getting closer. A new scream escaped his lips and tears from fear started streaming down his face.

Louis had never liked thunder and storms. He hated them and his shaking body tangled in the sheets reminded him of it perfectly. His fists were clenched around his pillow, gripping the fabric as if his life depended on it.

He always liked to take refuge in his mother’s bed when he was little, or in one of his sisters’; Lottie always let him hold her close so he could calm down, singing stupid songs in his ear that made him smile through the fear.  
But tonight, the only person who was there with him was Harry.

Harry, who wouldn’t hear the thunder.

Another flash.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. VLLAAAMMMM!

Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was still shaking under the blanket. He couldn’t do this.

1.. 2..3.. VLLAAAAMMMM.

He threw the blanket to the other side of the room, giving up, and ran to the living room, where he thought he would find Harry. But the curly boy wasn’t there; the couch was empty and the plaid was gone too.

A new clap of thunder shook the apartment and he screamed. Not a high-pitched and fake scream that girls let out when they saw a spider, a snake or a mouse; not an angry scream either. A real scream, a scream of terror that would alarm anyone who heard it.

But, there was the problem. No one had heard him.

His legs led him to Harry’s room and he didn’t hesitate one second when he saw the flash on white light lighting up the hallway: his hand opened the door as fast as he could and the door slammed behind him while he was feeling his way along to the bed.

And, thank God it wasn’t a round bed.  
Another clap of thunder accompanied the light scream that escaped hum and he felt the wooden armature against his knees.

The flash of lightning helped him distinguish the outline of a body under the sheets and he climbed into the bed softly. Discretion could have been his ally if another deafening noise didn’t shake the room, traumatizing him.

He threw himself under the blankets immediately and pressed himself against his friend, who groaned lightly. Harry turned over, moving his arm against Louis’ hot and trembling stomach.

At that moment, he opened his emerald and tired eyes, just when the thunder stroke once more. His irises scanned Louis and he stared at him with stupor.

-Boo?, he called, in a voice that showed he was still half-asleep.

The nickname acted like a discharge against the oldest’s skin; no one called him like that, except for his mother. How did Harry know about it? And why did he use it?

A flash lit up the room and all the questions torturing his mind went away suddenly, replaced by fear. Without having to explain anything, the green-eyed boy understood; he frowned and moved closer to Louis, who had started crying again.

-Louis..., his tired voice murmured.

His hand moved to rub against his lower back, while the other grasped Louis’, squeezing it. Louis immediately buried his head in his neck, right next to where the brown curls started growing, and he breathed the liquorice smell in.

VLLAAAMMMM.

The oldest’s body started shaking again and Harry held him a little tighter, his fingers running up and down Louis’ warm and bare back.

Despite the tiredness and the state of semi-consciousness he was in, the boy was totally aware of the position they were in. He knew Louis’ feverish and trembling body against his wasn’t part of another nightmare; he wouldn’t wake up screaming and crying, not this time.

He was there, real, alive, in his arms.

Louis just needed comfort, for someone to be there for him, and he knew it, but he had waited so long just to hold him against him again that he didn’t really care.

He didn’t care about what was going to happen the next morning, when he was going to wake up alone or when Louis would never mention that night again because he would be uncomfortable.

Harry knew Louis would hate himself for coming to sleep with him; not because he didn’t love him; just because it was against his ethic. Because he was a boy.

And that Louis didn’t like boys, nor did he like Harry. He only liked Harry as a friend.

He didn’t fall back asleep before his friend’s hiccups and shivers had stopped, and when he did, around 5:40 in the morning, his head slipped unconsciously against his friend’s hair.

*

Louis woke up suddenly, he was hot and felt something laying on his torso, tickling his belly. He looked down cautiously and was surprised to see Harry, still asleep, a peaceful and angelic expression on his face.

He felt bad and guilty right away. Why was he there, in this bed? He wasn’t allowed to!

He tried untangling himself softly to run away before the curly boy could wake up but it was already too late; Harry moved his head and he started blinking weakly.

His green eyes locked with Louis’ blue ones and they expressed incomprehension for a short moment.

-I, Louis started, uncomfortable, not even thinking about signing his words. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, um, come; I-

Harry went back up his friend’s torso so their faces were at the same height and Louis lost track of his already clumsy words.

His heart was beating so, so fast.

  
He didn’t know how to do anything; how to breathe, how to look, and for a few seconds, he even forgot what his name was.

Lewis? Luis? Lewie ? Loueh?

-Louis?, whispered Harry, soft and worried.

Louis. His name was Louis. He was Louis and he was panting. His irises met with the emerald ones of the boy who had just said his name.

-I love you, the boy announced without moving, his voice calm and controlled, as if he had been waiting and practicing these words for years, with the hope to say them out loud one day.

-Wh- huh?

And without letting him a chance to worry any more, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips against Louis’ pink, humid ones. The kiss tasted like sugar, due to the tons of sweets they had eaten the day before, with the boys.

It also tasted like passion, but what dominated everything was Love. Love that you could feel everywhere; from beginning to end, when the oldest’s tongue tickled the curly boy’s one to ask him for permission, and when their lips parted so they could breathe.

Harry was looking at Louis, and Louis couldn’t look away from the beautiful boy on top of him.


	10. Chapter Eight

**« A phobia is a stupid and irrational fear.**

**-Have you ever seen a rational fear? »**

***

-You’re not mad at me?, the older boy whispered, still breathing heavily.

Their kiss had left them panting and they were both out of breath, foreheads almost touching. The mass of brown curls was shook from left to right after reading on Louis’ lips and he smiled softly, almost shyly. Maybe he souldn’t have made the first move; after all, he wasn’t the one who had done something wrong; it was Louis who had snapped yesterday when he saw he was texting some boy named Josh.

But the fact that he came in the middle of the night, leaving the couch he was on to come join him in the big round bed that made him give up and break his promise not to talk to him again until he apologized.

The worst thing was that the messages he was sending to Josh were about Louis’ surprise party in three weeks!

Louis’ hand brushed his cheek and tickled his dimple, bringing him back to the present, which made the youngest moan, and he kissed his nose softly before kissing down his jaw, his neck, then his lips. His pink and shiny lips that were begging to be kissed.

The oldest’s fingertips went up to his neck, losing themselves in his curls and he kissed back, soft and passionate.

It was usually like that when they fought, they always ended up cuddling in the warmth of the blankets. //

Louis’ eyes widened suddenly; he was out of breath, sweetly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His irises glanced through the room quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, because he felt dizzy, but he could still notice the body asleep next to him.

His already uncoordinated respiration halted and his lids froze. Harry.

The flash-backs came back all of a sudden inside of his head, and he touched his lips, hoping to feel sugar on them but the flavor had disappeared. It had vanished, just like the burning touches the curly boy had left on his moist skin. Holy shit. That was a dream.

He had just dreamed.

He’d had a fucking dream on the boy who was supposed to be his best friend; a sensual dream where he was kissing Harry. A dream in which he loved Harry, him, Louis Tomlinson.

The shivers that were running through his entire body didn’t help any of the feelings inside of him; they were all incomprehensible.

There was mostly fear; electric discharges were running against his pale and trembling skin, reminding him of the few fictive moments he’d just lived. Because it was a dream, and nothing more.

Anger, that exploded in each cell of his body, making his entire body heat up that made breathing even more difficult. Anger that was mostly directed against himself; even though a small part was mad at the green-eyed boy for making him feel so weak. It was also his fault if he’d had such a dream, right?

Apprehension was also there, because he shouldn’t have such dreams about a boy! It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have a wet dream, and it was understandable and excusable. But how could he even think about Harry like that? Harry!

Surprise. Surprise that was taking his breath away and burned his lungs; a surprise that paralyzed him and tortured his mind. A surprise he couldn’t control.

Another side glane at the boy made him realize they were tangled together under the sheets; their legs were brushing against each other and Harry’s arm was laying against his back. He should ove, fucking hell, why was he still here?

What would happen if Harry woke up? God! Would he think he was gay? Would he instantly see he had dreamed about kissing him? It was probably that, it was now written in bold, black letters on his forehead: « Just dreamed erotically about my best friend. »

Why, in the first place, did he come here tonight? He could’ve gone through the storm alone; he should have. If he wasn’t this childish, nothing of that would have happened.

He wouldn’t have kissed Harry.

His own thoughts started to scare him and he moved quickly, hearing the groan from the boy laying next to him. God, he was going to wake up!

Not taking the time to be discrete, he jumped out of the bed and locked himself into the bathroom. There, he let himself slide down against the door and closed his eyes, burying his head in his lip and sighing heavily.

What had just happened?

*

When he returned in the kitchen after a long and cold shower, an hour and a half had gone by. His thoughts weren’t much clearer, actually, they seemed to be even messier.

So messy that he didn’t expect to find Harry leaning against the counter, a cup of tea in his hands, but he was there. His empty eyes were staring at the landscape through to window, hands cupping his red mug, the boy didn’t even to notice his presence. But Louis knew he knew he was there.

And Harry had indeed noticed the blue-eyed boy as soon as he came in the room. But he knew what Louis was feeling, and he didn’t want to rush him, he knew what was going on in his mind, he was aware of the mental storm that was ravaging his thoughts because he’d gone through that once already. He probably wasn’t going to talk about that night or what happened ever again, because it wouldn’t lead to anything.

If a rainy night was the only thing he could get to take his pain away, to hold Louis in his arms and feel his heart beating next to his, then Harry didn’t care, he would just wait for the next storm.

The rain still hadn’t stopped falling, drops of water still hitting the concrete rhythmically, but the thunder had stopped.

The youngest’s phone started ringing and the vibrations caught the boy’s eyes, who couldn’t hear it. His irises met Louis’ for a moment and he smiled at him.

He didn’t get any response, but he didn’t insist, refocusing his attention on the screen of his phone.

**« From Ni: Can’t come, they won’t let us out of the campus, the roof of the library collapsed and a tree is blocking the entry. Yay to rainy sundays. Oh, and I’m hungry. »**

The curly boy smiled.

**« To Ni: I’ll bring you cookies tomorrow. Hug Zayn and Liam for me. »**

He then grabbed a piece of paper from his yellow notebook next to the fridge and scribbled a few words quickly before handing it to Louis.

**« The boys can’t leave their dorm because of the storm. Do you want to do something today? »**

Avoiding the emerald eyes in front of him, he shook his head, handed the notebook back to him and left the room as quickly as he entered it, making the youngest sigh.

Louis didn’t leave his room all day, not for lunch, not in the afternoon, not even when he smelled a delicious smell of cake coming from the kitchen. He didn’t want to face Harry. He was ashamed, ashamed of having that kind of dreams.

He wanted to sleep, to escape and shush the voices in his head, who constantly reminded him of his dream, but just thinking about falling asleep scared him; he didn’t want to dream about Harry again.

Breakeven by The Script suddenly started playing in the room and he stood up, quickly grabbing his phone; the call was from his mum. He picked up right away.

-Mum.

-Hey, Boo, she smiled.

The previous night rushed back into his memory. Harry had called him ‘Boo’. He had always hated that nickname, he thought it was too childish; but when the boy had said it in the middle of the night, it sounded softer, prettier, almost magical. It sounded right.

For the first time ever, he’d liked how the word sounded, pronounced by his friend’s lips.

-Louis?

-Sorry, what?, he replied, remembering his mother was still there.

-You alright, honey?

-Yes, yes. I... I remembered something else yesterday, it wasn’t imp-

-Oh but that’s amazing!, she exclaimed, not letting him the time to finish. See, everything’s not lost!

-Yes, hm, it’s cool.

-Is something wrong?

-I’ve.. I.. No, it’s just, there was a storm last night, and I didn’t get much sleep.

Wrong. He had slept so well he felt guilty about it, so, so guilty.

-Oh, I understand.

Silence.

-What about uni?, she asked, figuring he wouldn’t add anything else.

-It’s alright.

Lie.

-You’re not struggling?

-Harry tries to help.

Another lie.

-You’re sure everything is okay, Louis? I feel like there’s something on your mind.

-No. Listen, mum, Harry baked an apple pie, so I have to go, we’re going to eat it while it’s still hot.

That seemed to make her a little more at ease and you could definitely hear the smile in her voice when she replied.

-No worries, hug him for me, will you? I love you, darling.

-Love you too, mum.

And he hung up without letting her say another word, throwing his cellphone on the bed, apparently too harshly because it bounced and fell on the ground.

-Fucking round bed!, he yelled, kicking at the corner of the commode.

It moved, knocked agains the wall, letting him see something was stuck between the wood and the fabric. He bent down and took the piece of wood out, examinating it quickly before realizing it was a frame.

The glass was broken and it was difficult to distinguish anything on the picture; but he could tell it was a black and white picture that had been taken inside a building.

He opened the frame carefully, taking the broken glass out and pulled the photograph out, dropping everything else on the bed. As he examinated it, his eyes widened with surprise when he recognized the round bed he was leaning against, as well as two asleep figures.

*  
Harry was sat on the couch, legs crossed and was watching distractedly the musical channel. He was waiting for a reply from Zayn, who he had texted over thirty minutes ago.

And if he hadn’t replied yet, it was because he didn’t have much more explanations than him. Zayn couldn’t comfort him because he didn’t want to lie to him, and none of the truths in his head would cheer him up.

At that moment, his phone vibrated.

**« From Zayn: Dunno, Haz, I really don’t know. Just give him some time, and I guess if he doesn’t talk about last time, don’t say anything either. We would have loved to give you some company, I promise. Did you ask Lily to come over? »**

The curly headed boy smiled sadly.

**« To Zayn: No, it’s okay, she’s with her boyfriend today. Thanks Zayn, and tell Ni his cookies are ready, the KitKat ones. »**

He then dropped his cellphone on the coffee table delicately, biting his lip a bit to harshly, quickly tasting blood on his tongue.

He was about to get up to get some biscuits in the kitchen when he felt the couch sink next to him. And Harry didn’t even have to turn his head to know who it was.

Louis was watching him, something in his hand, and even though he kept avoiding Harry’s eyes, there was an hesitant expression on his face.

_ _You okay?_ , signed the youngest.

The oldest’s lips twisted and he shot one last glance to the piece of paper in his hands before handing it to him.

Harry only had to look at it for a millisecond to recognize it : it was the picture that decorated the frame on the commode of their room, the one he had lost the day before Louis arrived, when he had taken everything down.

It was a picture of him and Louis, laying in the round bed. The picture had been taken by Liam while they both still asleep, on a Saturday morning two years ago. You could easily recognize the background; the pile of clothes thrown carelessly before hopping into bed, the dim lighting, the light bedsheets, the different frames hung on the walls.

But what was the most noticeable were the two people cuddled in the middle, under the covers. Louis was pressed against Harry, who he was holding in his arms in a protective way, his stomach against the boy’s back, and their hands joint against the latter’s torso. The oldest had buried his face in his friend’s curls and his closed eyelids showed that he was indeed fast asleep.

Not an agitated or uncomfortable sleep, no, just a calm sleep where he was happy, because one of the corners of his mouth was tilting upwards in a happy grin.

Harry looked happy to, because his face had never been so peaceful; he looked young and careless. Even though they were two, at that moment and in that position, they looked like they were one.

Another movement from Louis brought Harry back to his senses and he squirmed awkwardly to hide the tears that had started filling his emerald eyes. When he looked up a few seconds later, the oldest was studying his features carefully; so carefully he felt uncomfortable.

 __Where did you find it?_ , he finally asked.

Louis’ brows furrowed and he stood up, disappearing for a moment nd coming back a few seconds later, the notebook in his hands. He dropped it off next to Harry, with a pen.

**« Where did you find it? »**

**« Behind the commode in my room. When was it taken? »**

**« Two years ago. »**

**« Who took it? »**

**« Liam. »**

The man’s eyes seemed hesitant but he carried on writing, running the blue pen against the paper.

**« Why were we in the same bed? »**

**« We often slept in the same bed. »**

**« Often? »**

Harry’s eyelids closed; how far could he go before Louis got mad?

**« Yes, often. »**

**« Don’t you find that weird? »**

The boy twisted the cap of the pen between his fingers; Zayn had suggested not bringing last night’s events back up if Louis didn’t, but what did he have to loose? He already didn’t remember him.

**« That we slept together? No. Did you find it weird last night? »**

Louis’ ice blue eyes immediately looked up to meet Harry’s, as soon as he read his reply, and Harry could easily read what his friend was feeling.

Fear, shame, anger, apprehension, uneasiness. And it hurt; it hurt to think that they were back to the start. Louis didn’t love him anymore, he was just ashamed that they had slept in the same bed.

 **« I don’t know. »** , he ended up writing down, still avoiding his eyes.

Their conversation stopped there, and Harry wasn’t even hungry anymore. So instead of getting biscuits, he bit his lips and stared at the TV screen silently.

After a few minutes, he felt the notebook pressed against his thigh again and he looked down. Another line of words had been added on the sheet, in Louis’ tiny handwriting.

**« Do you want to watch a movie? »**

He turned his head to look at his friend and noticed he was looking through their DVD’s next to the television.

**« Grease? »**

And he finally smiled, for the first time of the day, nodding.

*

-One of my diamonds just fell in the macaroni!, announced Mary, at the same time as Harry read the sentence at the bottom of the screen.

The subtitles didn’t actually help him that much, he knew the movie by heart, but he hadn’t said anything when Louis suggested it. The notebook was pressed against his knees once again and he looked down.

**« Wanna order pizzas? I’m hungry. »**

**« Actually, I kind of want to eat macaroni now... »**

Laughter filled the room and the couch moved with it.

**« Deal, macaroni it is, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I burn everything I touch. »**

**« Don’t worry. »**

Harry stood up with a smile but Louis grabbed his wrist quickly, stopping him. Shocked, the boy turned over, his eyes fixed on the spot where their skin was touching.

The oldest noticed it and quickly retracted his hand, and the contact was gone.

-Um. Wait for the end of the movie?, he suggested softly.

Harry bit his lip but shook his head, smirking, then headed to the kitchen.

He was opening a drawer when he noticed the tiny hairy spider that was running in his direction.

-AAAAAAAaaaaaght!

The scream that had escaped him was a strong as Louis’ the night before; Harry had an horrible phobia of spiders. He dropped the bag of macaronis, letting it crash on the floor and climbed on the counter, not looking away from the little monster.

That’s how Louis found him. He was holding a baseball bat (God knows how he remembered where it was hidden; they’d hid it behind the plant in the living room just in case they got robbed), and was now scanning the room quickly?

-Harry?, he called once he was sure no one else was in the room.

He looked for the boy’s green eyes, but they were fixed on something near the ground that Louis couldn’t see.

-What’s wrong? Harry?, he repeated, worried, standing in front of the boy, who still didn’t want to look at him.

Louis turned over and finally identified what was terrorizing his friend.

-The spider? Harry.

He laid his hand on his arm and the emerald irises immediately turned to him, letting him see how scared he was.

-Okay, it’s the spider, Louis understood, talking to himself.

He let go of the boy’s wrist and took one of his white Vans off, approaching his new enemy. The spider moved a little, which made another masculine scream escape Harry’s mouth. If that was how Louis sounded last night..

The shoe quickly crashed on the small animal, and the oldest then grabbed a tissue to throw the dead body in the trash. When he was done, he turned over to see his friend breathing a bit more calmly, finally standing on his feet. He approached him, and their eyes met.

__It’s over, Harry._

__I know._

__You okay?_

The boy just nodded with hesitation.

_ _Help_?, suggested Louis, pointing to the pan and the pasta spilled on the floor.

*

The macaronis were now in the oven and they had just finished washing the dishes when the oldest’s phone started ringing. As he was sat on the edge of the counter dangerously, he had to squeeze to be able to grab his phone. He had a text.

**« From Eleanor: Heey! I was just wondering how your day was? And, if you’re up to it, maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow?xx »**

**« To Eleanor: Hey! Kind of bad, to be honest, but I just saved my friend from an evil spider and the macaronis are in the oven. I’m hungry. No worries about tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at the shop, I think I can leave around 12. xx »**

Once the text was sent, he looked up and his blue eyes met Harry’s. He smiled softly at him, but the boy didn’t return the gesture.


	11. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn’t like really bad and I don’t know if anyone actually likes this, so like, let me know?? :)

**« In love, you don’t explain yourself, you try to be understood. »**

***

The next day, when Harry entered the cafeteria alone at lunch time, he was greeted by surprised faces and raised eyebrows from his friends. ‘He shouldn’t be on his own’ was the only thing the three boys could think of.

 _  
_Lou’s not with you?_ , asked Niall.

__No, he preferred eating out._

__Out?_

__Out._

__Out,_ repeated the irish man for the fourth time.

The curly haired boy just nodded and sat in front of his friend, staring and picking at his food sadly. Just seeing his plate filled with thaï rice made him want to throw up and he swallowed harshly. He loved thaï rice.

_ _Alone?_

He didn’t say reply, still staring at his plate as if it was going to start moving. Any trace of hope in his eyes was definitely gone.

-Harry, Liam tried, signing as he was talking, brushing his friend’s shoulder to catch his attention.

But it was already too late, the youngest had already stood up, leaving his tray on the table and walking out of the room hastily.

-Did I say something wrong?

-No, not at all; I guess that was just his way of answering the question.

-So Louis really went out to get lunch with someone?, exclaimed Zayn, jumping on his feet.

-Zayn, sit down please; you don’t know anything, nor do I and Niall doesn’t know anything either. Let’s not jump to conclusions.

-And you think Haz would’ve left like that if Louis was eating alone? You said it yourself!

-Harry isn’t doing great, it’s-

-No shit, man! As if I hadn’t noticed!

-Zayn, tried Niall calmly. Calm dow, yelling at each other isn’t going to help.

-Louis better not cross my path today.

-But he’s maybe-

-He’s not alone, Li. I know it.

*

Louis was waiting in the queue when he felt Eleanor’s arm brush his ostentatiously. He flinched immediately, moving his arm away, before realizing how rude that must have made him look. He bit his lip, unable to think of anything he could do to redeem himself.  
But he didn’t even have the time to think about it any more, because the young woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

-Everything okay, Louis?

-Hm? Yeah.

-You don’t look like it.

-I’m just.. tired, I suppose; I slept really bad last night.

-How come?

-I have a fucking round bed!, he exploded, turning to her and unconsciously release all the pressure he was holding in, which earned him a few weird looks from people around. A fucking round bed, and I keep falling off of it!

She giggled and he raised an eyebrow at her, obviously angry.

-Anything wrong? If you find that funny we can-

-It’s just that you usually don’t sleep on your own in a round bed, Louis, she cut him off, still calm and joyous. They’re supposed to warn you when you buy it, it’s a double bed.

-Excuse me?

\- The bed is made for couples, why did you buy it?

-I, err. Actually, I.. I don’t really know.

All the anger had now left his body in a whirlwind, and now he didn’t quite know how to handle himself.

-You don’t remember ?

-Yeah, it’s- um..

-Hello?, the waiter interrupted them for the second time, saving Louis. How can I help you?

-Sorry, hey, um, a burger for me and- what do you want, El?

-I’ll have a salad. You know you’re weird, Louis?

-Yeah, I know.

*

The rest of the afternoon was an absolute disaster for the English man, who got lost at least three times in the hallways of the building, tripped in the stairs and had also skipped his last three periods because his back hurt. He was now busy cursing Harry, who never showed up where they had agreed to during break.  
Not really knowing his way around the streets of London, he tried acting smart by taking the bus, before realizing he was indeed on the 38 bus to Victoria, but he had taken it the wrong way.  
So he entered the flat, slamming the door behind him, threw his backpack on the floor, swearing loudly and angrily. He was planning on rushing to his room as soon as he could, but stop in his tracks, realizing he wasn’t alone.

-Holy shit!, he repeated when he noticed the blonde woman who just turned to him. Who are you? And how did you get in here?

The woman’s brows furrowed but she didn’t stand up, she didn’t even look fazed by his entrance.

-Hello, Louis.

It’s then that he noticed the brown curls sprawled in her lap, and the girl’s hand was brushing said curls, combing Harry’s hair with her long fingers. Harry was apparently asleep.  
But what was she doing here? Who was she? Were they allowed to bring girls home just like that?  
One thought was constantly running in the man’s head: ‘Let go of his hair. Let. Go. Of. His. Fucking. Hair. You’re not allowed to.’

-Who the hell are you?, he tried again, more aggressively this time, but still careful not to be too harsh. We never discussed that with Harry, that we were allowed to bring girls home, and I don’t...

She burst out laughing, both an amused and mocking laugh. Anger started flooding Louis’ veins again and he breathed in sharply. He’d had a long day and he really, really didn’t need to be put through such a situation.

-What?, he groaned, gritting his teeth.

-I’m not his girlfriend, you idiot; you don’t remember me?

Ah. One more person who was part of the I’m-a-part-of-your-previous-life-I-hope-you-remember-me squad?

-Christine? Jade? Anastasia?, he sighed, trying to think of any female name he remembered.

-Nope. I’m Lily, Harry’s best friend.

Some more pressure left his body and he started thinking maybe it was a bit scary how angry he had gotten.  
So he was now a bit less stressed about her not being a robber and definitely not being a one-night stand, and he relaxed his shoulders, kicking at his bag on the ground before letting himself fall on the couch.

-Long day?, she guessed.

-Harry wasn’t even there! I got lost, I fell, I had a terrible afternoon and I come back here for what? To find him peacefully asleep on the couch with some blonde chick -I’m sorry- caressing his hair?

She smiled mischievously.

-That’s okay for me, I’ll say it as because of the amnesia. But you should be more careful with what you say or do, not everyone likes to take it in in silence.

-Are you talking about Harry?

-I’m talking about anyone who was closer to you than I was. It hurts to feel rejected.

-Are you trying to lecture me, Lily?

-No.

His eyes drifted to the asleep face in the girl’s lap and he bit his lip. His cheeks weren’t totally dry and it looked like he had been crying.

-He’s okay, announced Lily, who had followed his gaze.

Louis didn’t reply; he didn’t have anything to say, so he just looked away and sunk a little deeper into the couch, trying to act casual.

-So, err, is Lily short for, um, Elisabeth? Liliane? Elisa?, he tried after a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the music that was playing on the tv and Harry’s soft snores.

-No, just Lily.

-Ah.

-Don’t bother, Louis, you’ve already tried.

-What?

-You’ve tried flirting with me when we first met and it didn’t work; also, I have a boyfriend.

-But I wasn’t trying to-

-Kidding, Lou, relax, she laughed. But the other part is true, you really have tried asking me out four years ago. That’s how you met Haz.

-Because I was flirting with you?

-Because you didn’t want to give up and I had to ask Harry to do something.

-Harry?

-He just intervened physically, he didn’t have to say anything, actually, you immediately shut up.

That’s just because he’s taller than me.

-Yeah, or maybe you just found him so ad-

She immediately stopped in the middle of her sentence and started thinking so hard you could almost see smoke coming out of her pores.  
Adorable, she had almost said adorable.

-Ad?

-Admiringly mighty? Yeah, you found him so mighty that you shut up right away.

-You’re weird, Lily.

-I know, she smiled softly, still caressing her best friend’s curls carefully.

*

« Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,  
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. »

The first verse had just ended when Louis grabbed the remote, muting the sound of the tv and the rest of W.H. Arden’s poem.

-Lily?, he called, seeing how she was looking at him, eyebrows raised.

\- Why did you stop it? It’s my favorite part; I mean, it’s not fun, but- the moment is; anyways.

-I have a question.

She glanced at her best friend quickly, who was still fast asleep, glued to her side. He hadn’t woken up and in a way, she was happy. She was happy, because her friend’s features were always tired, his skin was getting paler, his cheekbones were starting to stand out and his tired expression worried her.  
She figured he didn’t sleep much, or not at all, if she could trust the blue bags under Harry’s green eyes.

-A question related to the movie?

-Not exactly.

-Okay.

-Harry’s parents, they.. I mean, they never visit? I mean, they don’t even call?

Why this question? Because he had just seen the deceased’s relatives in ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’ and he had started thinking about his own sisters, then about the boy’s family and was surprised to realize that he had never heard anything about them.  
He let a few seconds to the girl so she could collect her thoughts, even though she seemed totally taken aback by his question, as if she didn’t have any answer to give him and was hesitating to tell him the truth.

-Actually, I don’t know; I never knew.

-You don’t know why his parents never call?

-I don’t know who or where his parents are. He never talks about them.

-Never.

-Never?

-No one knows?

-Well..

She looked hesitant once again, but his pleading eyes encouraged her to carry on.

-You knew. He told you?

-Me? Why me?

-You’re his best friend, Louis!, she sighed.

-What about you? You’ve known him longer than I have.

She shook her head and moved, carefully placing Harry’s head on the white leather and stood up, heading to the kitchen. The older an followed her, entering the room to see she was just drinking water, turning her back to him.

-I may have known him for a while, she started when she heard him come in, but you know way more.

-Why?

-That...

She had murmured the word, so low Louis could barely hear it.

Louis’ phone shook in his pocket and he took it out by reflex, because his mind was so busy with what Lily had just told him.  
What did that mean?

« From Eleanor: I loved spending time with you, we should do that again soon. I’m glad I met you, Louis; you’re a great person. xx »

His eyes saw the text but his mind didn’t quite process it; so he threw his cellphone onto the worktop and ran the girl’s words in his head once more.  
Footsteps behind him startled him and Lily turned over suddenly, a fake smile on her face to greet Harry. Louis could have believed the smile as genuine if he hadn’t been in the room for several minutes now, so he knew the atmosphere was too tense for it to be joyful and true.

 __Hey Haz_ , she signed, smiling.

Louis turned over slowly, noticing the tired green eyes. Harry waved weakly at them.

__Do you need something, babycakes?_

The boy shook his head and walked to the counter, sitting on one of the empty chairs around it, burying his head in his arms to rest some more.

-I’m gonna go, announced Lily out loud.

-Alright.

-Take care of him.

-I will.

-I’m not kidding, Louis.

-I know.

She nodded and approached her best friend, tapping his shoulder lightly. He stood up immediately and looked lost for a few seconds before watching her sign that she had to get going and that she would see him tomorrow.  
He smiled softly and wrapped his arms around her, keeping her there for a few moments while she pressed her lips on his cheeks.  
A soft kiss that made the butterflies in Louis’ stomach scream.

Once they were left alone, Louis stayed immobile for a moment, standing in the middle of the room, staring at his friend’s back before taking a seat too.  
A piece of paper was handed to him and he took a moment to collect himself.

**« Sorry about this afternoon, I wasn’t feeling well. »**

He looked up to see two big eyes staring at him tiredly. He tried smiling to make the younger boy understand that it was no big deal but he couldn’t help but grimace.

Silence filled the room again, heaving over the boys’ shoulders. Harry didn’t know what he was doing. He wanted to tell Louis he wasn’t allowed to see other people; not because they were together, just because he loved him. Maybe it was selfish to think that way, because if he loved him, knowing him happy should be enough; but Louis’ last actions as ‘real Louis’ were still playing in his head.

**« I’ll be back soon. Wait for me? »**

But he never came back. The doctor had called Harry in the middle of the night to tell Harry the love of his life was somewhere between death and life.

If Louis had made him promise to wait for him before he left, he had to keep that promise and wait. No matter how many days, weeks or months he had to go through this pain, this constant and burning torture that was ripping his chest apart; he would wait. He would wait because Louis had told him he would be back.

So Louis would come back.

And if Louis came back, he wasn’t allowed to see someone else in the meantime, because it was wrong and painful.  
And Harry was already going through enough pain as it was.

As for Louis, he was still thinking about nothing; from his lunch date with Eleanor to the text she had sent him and to which he still hadn’t replied; to the conversation he’d had with Lily and the bus he had taken in the wrong direction. A tenth of his thoughts also went to Harry’s ‘mysterious’ family, and he noted mentally that he needed to call his mum this week to ask how everyone was doing.  
After about ten awkward and uncomfortable minutes of silence, he grabbed the piece of paper again and quickly wrote the question that Eleanor had asked him during lunch.

**« Harry, why did you let me buy a round bed? It’s made for couples, you have to be two so you don’t fall! »**

The boy was taken aback, but decided it would be best to say the truth, even though it was probably stupid to do so.

**« Because you usually didn’t sleep  alone. »**

**« Wait. You’re trying to tell me I used to bring girls home every night??? »**

The curly boy’s eyes scanned the words, and that’s when he realized his mistake. He clenched his eyes shut and prayed he could turn back time just to erase his previous sentence and write something else instead.  
But if he could do that, why not just go twenty-three days back and give up the stupid idea to force Louis to go buy him sweet popcorn?  
But there was the problem, he couldn’t do that, and he had to assume to consequences to his stupid actions; once again.

**« No; you didn’t bring any girls home. »**

Stupid. Very stupid, Styles.

**« So what? »**

**« Nothing; forget what I said. »**

The oldest raised an eyebrow, losing patience, giving up the idea of writing.

-Fucking hell, Harry, explain! Everyone is doing that: you, Lily, Liam, Niall, Zayn, even my own mother! You start a sentence, mentioning something I don’t understand, then you refuse to explain it! What’s your fucking problem?!

The boy struggled to read on his friend’s lips with how fast and angrily he was talking but he managed to get the main idea out of it. And the swear words were the easiest to understand, with how strongly Louis was saying them, insisting on each syllable.

_ _Sorry_ , he just signed, shaking his head and getting off his chair quickly, heading to his room and slamming the door.

-Fuck you, Harry Styles!, Louis yelled, even though he knew no one would hear him.

He then kicked at the counter, which only made him hurt himself and he swore again, jumping around the kitchen to make the pain in his foot go away.  
He grabbed his phone, his keys, forgot what he had promised Lily and left a quick note on the table before leaving the apartment, slamming the door behind him as well.

**« I need to go out to think. Don’t wait for me, I don’t even know if I’m coming back tonight. L. »**


	12. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably one of my favourite chapters!! enjoy, and as always, leave me your opinions :)

 

**"The truth is at the bottom of the glass."**

***

Louis was riding way too fast, adrenaline flooding through his entire body; he should probably slow down and park somewhere but he didn't; anger was making his arms shake, making him go way over the speed limit. He just wanted to scream and hit something, he wanted to externalize the constant voices in his head, the ones that kept telling him a part of the truth was being hidden from him. And as he couldn't hit anything, he pressed a little harder on the pedal, making his car go a little faster at each turn. He almost slammed into another car by ignoring a red light, but swallowed the threats that were burning his throat. He didn't really know where he was going ut a quick look at a tatty sign at the side of the road made him park the car as soon as he found an empty spot. The sign said "NightClub", but his mind translated it to "Get smashed."

And the only thing he needed right now was to forget everything and have fun.

So he got out of his car and took place in the queue in front of the heavy doors. Not a lot of people were out today, because it was monday, so the line before him was rather short. The bouncer was checking everyone's ID carefully, making some teenagers leave and his breath hitched. The anger that was animating him downed a little, replaced by distress.

What was he going to do? He wasn't old enough and-

-ID, please?, the bouncer asked, his voice sharp and strict.

 Louis fumbled to find it in his wallet and handed it to the man, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers were moist on the plastic but the man nodded at him.

-Have fun.

And with that, the boy was allowed to get inside the building after taking a few steps, he stopped next to the cloakroom, slightly taken aback.He was seventeen, how ould he- a quick look at his ID helped him understand. He was twnty-one, and not seventeen. Bloody amnesia.

-Can I have your jacket?, asked a feminine voice behind him, making him jump.

-Huh?

A young woman with short curly hair was standing behind a counter, a polite smile stuck on her face. Her red glasses were falling on her nose, making her blue eyes and the shine of her ear piercing stand out.

-Your jacket, she smiled kindly. Are you taking it in there or leaving it here?

-Oh. Um. There you go.

*  
  
Harry closed his eyes. He'd been laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling for a couple of minutes now, and the off white paint was starting to make him feel claustrophobic. He felt guilty. 

He felt guilty for not being able to reply to Louis and leave just like he'd done. He felt weak. Weak and uncapable. It was stupid to be scared of spiders, and it was stupid to be scard of the dark. It was stupid to eb afraid of heights, to be scared of dying. It was stupid to be scared of Louis.

Scared to meet his eyes, because he could then read everything he didn't want to tell him; scared of him finding out the truth by someone else; scared that he might hate and reject him for not telling him; scared to lie or tell him the truth; scared to get hurt. 

Scared of him never remembering.

 

Scared of everything.

Harry was scared of everything; that word resonated in his hed like a sad melody. It was in each of his sentences and thoughts.

But it wasn't a soothing melody; the word was striving against him, never stopped, kept him awake at night and gave him nightmares during the day. It never left him, it had always been with him since the night of the accident, since the phone call, since the hospital.

Not being to stay confined any longer, he sat up suddenly, throwing his blue pillow against the wall. The impact didn't make any sound, not because he couldn't hear it, but because the feathers were just like him; so insignificant that they didn't emit any sound.

Biting his lip, he decided he needed to leave the four walls that he couldn't stand anymore, heading to the living room, and he was surprised to find it empty. Louis should've been here, because his room was empty. 

The kitchen wasn't much better, and he was about to go check in the other rooms when he noticed the ripped piece of yellow paper, laid on the counter.

*

Twenty minutes and two glasses of AppleSourz later, Louis was getting off of his stool, quickly gripping the counter to help steady himself, letting out a light giggle. The guy sat next to him shot him a reproving glance and watched him leave to the dance floor, swaying. The boy didn't feel sad or angry anymore, he didn't feel betrayed; he was just happy and joyous, and he wanted to move. So he let himself slide against the sweaty bodies around him, and finally reached the center of the dancefloor, where he totally let go, letting the beat of the music take control of his body.  
  
After dancing wildly to about a dozen songs, respiration short, the english manfelt thirsty, and he slowed down a bit, feeling the effects of the alcohol starting to reach his brans. He turned on himself, deciding to rest for a bit, noticing a girl sat on the couches a bit further, but he was met with a mass of brown curls instead; a mass of brown curls that stopped him outright.

 

Harry.

The person had their back turned to him, but when he tapped their shoulder to make sure it was indeed his friend, the boy was not what he was hoping for: plain brown eyes were staring at him and he frowned, murmuring a small "sorry", his breath stinking like alcohol and apples.

So he turned over and rushed into the stream of dancing people, looking for the girl he'd seen earlier. Blonde hair, or maybe red? He didn't even remember the stranger's face, except for the skinny leather pants she was wearing.

As he was trying to make his way through the crowd, two arms circled his waist, hips pressing to his back in a way too sensual way. Mind too hazy to think, he immediately started moving against the stranger's hips, surrendering and forgetting his quest . He could only stare at the electric blue colour of the nails on his stomach; perfectly manucured nails that presaged a nice face.

He felt her heavy breathing against his next and shivers started running down his spine slowly, making an appreciative smile grow on her lips. He then let a hand fall to her back to grab the girl's waist, not letting any more distance between the two.  
He had only just looked up to look at the young woman's face when he saw two big emerald eyes staring at him, pupils dilated by the alcohol, black and shiny. His heart missed a beat. 

Harry.  
  
Louis immediately stepped back, blinking furiously and only receiving an annoyed raise of eyebrows from the girl. He shook his head, trying to forget what he had seen -what he thought he had seen- and moved closer to her again, placing his hands around her waist. She shivered, but he was still trying not to look her in the eyes.

Harry could go to hell, he couldn't stop him from having fun tonight.

-My name is Dinah, she whispered lustfully, nibbling at his ear.

-Louis.

-Nice to meet you, Louis.

 

It was clear that she'd had way too many drinks, however, that didn't stop her movements, which were more and more urgent. She moved closer to Louis, burying her head in his neck and the emanations of her liquorice shampoo tickled the man's nostrils.

Again, the flashback was violent. It brought him back to the room in which he had slept the week before, lying down next to some curly haired boy. Brown curls that smelled just the same; liquorice. Silky curls that smelled a thousand times better then than the girl's hair did tonight.

Fingers brushed his hair, messing his fringe up; and that brought him back on earth. Butterflies were flying in his stomach, up and down his body, fast enough to make him feel dizzy and sweaty.

What was wrong with him?

 

Dinah must have felt how uncomfortable he was because she took a step back, staring at his face. Her dilated irises pierced right through him and the only thing he could think of to break the eye contact was probably the most stupid one.

He leaned forward, following his instinct and quickly pressed his lips to the woman's. They were dry, chapped and tasted like sour vodka. It wasn't the kind of kiss Louis was into, but the disgust that shook him was enough to make Harry leave his thoughts- once again. 

He had gone out to have fun, to forget the green-eyed boy, to drink, to have a hangover the next morning, so he could sleep and ingest a dozen painkillers; not to be reminded of his weird weekend and how soft Harry's hair was.

That's why he amplified the kiss, overcoming his disgust, opening his mouth so their tongues could meet. He had never been a huge fan of french kissing, but the current circumstances didn't leave him any choice.

The english man's hands went up to tangle themselves in the blonde hair and he played with a loose strand for a moment, closing his eyes again to forget the green irises that haunted him.

But the result was the opposite of what he wanted; as soon as his eyelids were close, the floor started spinning and felt himself leave. Leaving, but not moving.

Leaving mentally; far away from Dinah. Her lips were still present against his, but the person in front of him had changed; the eyes were still green, but they were much shinier, lighting up the room, the curls were shorter, and not blonde.  
  


Harry was in front of him.  
  
His lips were warm, soft and tasted like raspberry tea, or maybe it was strawberry? They were perfectly synchronized with his and strong hands were messing up his hair.

But he didn't care, because that feeling of authenticity wasn't leaving him; the hands were made to mess up his hair, just like their bodies were made to fit with the other, ajusting to each other like puzzle pieces. Like yin and yang.

Reality hit him hard when Dinah responded to the embrace, her tongue touching his. Louis took a step back right away, his entire body shivering.

 

-Are you okay?, she asked over the music, worried.

He shook his head.

 

-I... I need something to drink, he murmured, out of breath, his blue eyes terrified. The woman raised an eyebrow at him but he left quickly, reeling. His steps lef him to the counter, against which he leaned and immeditaly ordered another glass of AppleSourz.

Whatever had just happened, it wasn't natural; the alcohol was probably responsible for the thoughts he was having. It must've confused his brain; he wasn't himself anymore, and god knows what stupid stuff you can do after drinking. What had just happened was purely in his head, his imagination was going crazy because of what he had already drunk.

So if it was the alcohol's fault, he need to drink more; not because he wanted more; quite the opposite, actually; because he wanted to forget this night, each detail, each hallucination, each feeling.

And one thing was certain, he wouldn't be capable of doing that without a total blackout.

So he drank. One glass. Two glasses. Three glasses. Four more glasses. Enough glasses to make him forget how to count and put one feet before the other without collapsing.

* 

Harry was sat on the couch, Louis' note still in his hand, and he was staring at the television blankly, not really seeing whatever random movie was on. He couldn't go to sleep; his friend had been gone for four hours, and he had been sat there for three.

His cellphone was in his right hand, on the armrest and he had turned the vibration alerts on.

He knew Louis had gone out to drink.

Not that it was what he'd usually do, but because it's what he would have done himself if he could; he would've gone out to take off, to fly away.

He would've drunk to forget a little, to cross out what he couldn't understand and make his frustration go away; to kill his boredom.

 

And Louis was going to drink, Harry was sure of it.

But, if Louis drank, he couldn't drive and would need help to come back home. The boy just hoped he would be the first one on his list.

He checked his screen several times, even though it hadn't moved at all. But nothing.

It's only at three in the morning that Louis' name appeared in the incoming calls list.

 

*

 

Louis stayed there, sat at the counter, swaying dangerously on his stool, laughing stupidly at a random question the man next to him had asked.

-Drunk, huh?, guessed the man.

-You know what? I like you, he announced clumsily, observing him curiously and eluding the answer.  
His words were chewed up and rushed, making them harder to understand.

-I like you, because you don't look like Harry!

-What?

-Harry, he doesn't have black hair! He has curls! Small pretty curls that fall everywhere around his face! Do you know what I want to do?

The man frowned; he was totally lost.

 

-I want to caress his hair every time I see him; comb my fingers through his brown hair. Oh! And your eyes are ugly! Harry has beautiful eyes; they're green, or blue, depending on the weather and the light! A marvelous blue-green!

-Harry?, the man repeated.

-What? Where? Where is he? I want to tell him I like his hair! Oh, please! Another drink!

-I think you should stop there. 

-Err, nah, I still remember his face. I want to forget his face.

-Who?

-Harry. 

-Why?

-Did I tell you about Eleanor? 

The guy glanced at him, confused. 

-No? Well, I have nothing to say. Hey, did I tell you Harry's eyes were the colour of trees?

 

Someone placed another glass full of whisky in front of him, but before he could grab it and bing it to him lips- or even drop it, like he had done several times alreayd- the man next to him took it from him with an amused laugh.

-I seriously think you should stop.

-You're not my dad.

-You should call your boyfriend.

-I'm freeee! 

-You should call Harry so he can come pick you up. 

-Ooh yes! I'll call Harry! I'm going to tell him to go fuck himself, he and his beautiful eyes!

 

He took his cellphone out of his pocket, not without trouble, then pressed on a few buttons, then bringing it to his hear victoriously, squinting his eyes.

 -Harreeeeh, he exclaimed happily. You're my green eyed lover! Are you coming to join me? I'm bored and I miss you! You have beautiful curls, you know that? Will you let me style them? Please!

He didn't get any response, even though he knew Harry was still there.

-Harry? You don't wanna talk to me?

-...  
-You're annoying. I don't like you anymore, that's it, you win. I don't like you or your brown curls, or your pretty eyes. And don't even call me back. Anyways, I hope your dog is doing great; okay, I love you.

 

Louis hung up, smashed his screen against the humid wood of the counter, shooting a triumphant look to the man. 

-There.

 

The only response he got was a desperate sigh and his phone -thank god it wasn't broken- vibrated.

-I got a text! Oh! It's Harry! "Louis. I can't hear you, can you please text me?" Why- ohh! Did I tell you Harry couln't hear?

-What?

-Harry's deaf. But he can play the piano, he's really good at it, even. Have you ever heard a deaf person play the piano? No?

 

The man shook his head.

-I would have suggested that you listen to Harry but I don't want you to. Harry's mine, he's mine and I'm not lending him to you.

-You should tell him to pick you up, then. By text.

-Great idea!

"To Harry: Harreeeh! You coming to pick me up pleaaaase?xxxxxx"

"From Harry: where?"

Louis furrowed his brows.

 

-Why is Harry asking me- Sir, hey, sir? Do you prefer glasses, or cups- HEY! Give me my phone back! Help!

"To Harry: Heaven, close to Charing Cross. Send a text when you're here, I'll take him outside." 

The man handed the cellphone back to him almost immediately, making the boy shut up.

 

"From Harry: Thanks."

-Why is he saying thanks?

 

-I told him where you were.

-That's nic- oh! You talked to Harry! You-

-How many drinks have you had?, the man cut him off, looking at the worrying amouth of empty glasses next to Louis. 

-Dunno.

 

The vibration announcing a new text made the counter shake and the younger man looked at it strangely.

-Why is it moving? Pay attention!, he added when the man checked the screen. It could be dangerous!

"From Harry: I'm in front of the entrance."

-Come with me, the man murmured, getting off his stool to help the other boy. 

The latter almost collapsed when he tried standing up, but the man's arms saved him. 

-Where are we going?

-To see Harry. Did you have a jacket with you?

The boy didn't answer and shot once last look around him. His excitation had come down a little and he now seemed exhausted; the alcohol was starting to wear off.

 

As soon as he saw the heavy doors open, Harry jumped out of his Range Rover and walked over to the newcomers. A man had his arms wrapped around Louis' waist, but he felt a little better when he notice he was actually carrying Louis, nothing more.

The boy didn't even have to introduce himself, the man recognized him immediately, thanks to Louis' laudatory description earlier that night: brown curly hair, big green eyes, black jeans and a bandana in his hair.

Today, it was a red checkered bandana that carried his neglected curls.

The man carried Louis to the car and helped him get in. When he closed the door, he turned to Harry and handed him his friend's phone with an encouraging smile.  


-Thanks, Harry murmured softly, his voice cracking; he wasn't used to using it, but he was almost certain the man didn't understand sign language.

The man just nodded, smiled and went back into the nightclub.

 

*

 

When they entered the flat, Louis definitely wasn't touching the floor anymore; he had fallen asleep against the window on the way home and was now being carried by Harry, who was struggling to unlock the door, fumbling through his keys until he found the right one.

-I can walk, groaned Louis, waking up.

Not getting any response, because his friend hadn't heard him, he continued.

-Hey, who are you? I can walk, y'know. 

His voice softed at the end of his sentence, as if the fatigue was taking over his body again, making him slip back into unconsciousness.

 

Harry headed to Louis' room immediately, the one with the round bed, that had once been theirs, and laid Louis down before standing up, biting his lip. Apparently, he was really out of it, not even recognizing him, and looked uncomfortable. That ascertainment conviced him to do something; so he squat down and turned the light on to help him take off his jacket and shoes.

But when he tried unfastening his belt to take it off, the boy moved clumsily underneath him, his hand grabbing his wrist and stopping his movements. 

-Go away, he mumbled.

A word that the curly haired man didn't hear. His eyes landed on Louis' pink lips just a second too late and for a moment, neither of them moved. They were still touching when the boy spoke again. 

-Go away, I already have a boyfriend.

Harry's eyes widened, because he had read the sentence on Louis' lips, this time, and he was like paralyzed. Had Louis really just said that? He instantly let go of him and took a few steps back, staring at his friend, who just rolled on his stomach, mumbling some more into the pillow.

-Idontwantyouionlyneedharry. 

A sentence that the boy couldn't hear and didn't see. He just waited there awkwardly for the boy to fall asleep, and when soft snores started filling the room, he leaned forward, kissing Louis' forehead softly.

A kiss that lasted longer that it should have, because Harry couldn't look away from the blue eyed boy who was once his.


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick heads up; this story has twenty-one chapters, a bonus, an epilogue and then two little One Shots to make the story a lil longer! :) sooooo... ten chapters left hehe

**"Things find their true place in memory."**  

***

The headache that was constantly hammering Louis' mind the next days after his little escapade didn't leave him before the next weekend. He had gone through the pain without telling anybody, because after all, he deserved it, didn't he? He had gone out to drink like a man, so he was going to go through the consequences like a man. He had only needed an entire bottle of painkillers and had damned the man who created the idea of a hungover.

He hadn't been to the doctors either; maybe he suffered from something else but he didn't feel capable of admitting that he had probably never drunk that much in his entire life because he couldn't stand his temporary amnesia. If it was indeed temporary, that is. 

The only positive thing was maybe him getting closer to Harry: Louis had learnt some more signs through the week, with the boys' help, but since that day, things were different now. They were more awkward; and he couldn't help but constantly feel like he had said or done something wrong. 

But there was the problem: it was a total blackout.

 

He had gotten what he wanted; he couldn't remember a single thing from that night, not a minute, not an instant. He was unable to remember what had happened between 7pm and the time he woke up in his bed; but he knew, he was certain he had done something stupid or reckless.

Kiss a stranger? Sleep with another? He was helpless, couldn't remember anything, however, he knew that _something_ was related to Harry.

That was almost undeniable, because he felt that sharp spike in his stomach every time he laid eyes on his friend. It felt like a sword that was tearing him in two.

Moreover, the alcohol had not only given him an abominable headache; it has also shook his brain: he hadn't any more flashbacks than the one from the previous weekend; nada.

Not a single memory or reminder of his previous life, the one he had forgotten and that he missed so dearly. Well, he didn't miss it, because he couldn't remember it. He felt an indefinable feeling that was boring his chest every time he was met with something from his past.

So about the awkwardness and the lack of memories, Louis felt guilty. He felt guilty about going to that bar to drink God knows how many shots and strange liquors.

He was now slouched across the couch, head hanging in the void, legs in the air, against the pillows. Harry had gone out grocery shopping, because it was his turn to do them and he was bored; it was 6pm.

Harry.

 

Since the beginning of the week, after forgetting a few hours of his life thanks to the alcohol, everything he was doing constantly brought him back to the curly haired boy. He was currently humming "Wanted" by Hunter Hayes mindlessly, his felted voice giving the lyrics authenticity.

 

"You know I'd fall apart without you

I don't know how you do what you do"

 

And it was true; Louis didn't know how Harry did it to handle so many things, he accepted living with his best friend who didn't remember him, who couldn't communicate with him and messed up, went out in the evenings to call him in the middle of the night, completely smashed.

Harry was strong, because he endured everything without saying what Louis didn't want to hear. He was so much more audacious ina million different ways: he kept on living, smiling through his disability, through all the obstacles that were crossing his path.

Louis would havegiven up if he was him; but he was there, next to him, supporting him nevertheless.

 

"Cause everything that don't make sense about me

Makes sense when I'm with you,"

 

Louis was struggling to find himself, to know who he was and give a purpose to what he was doing. He felt lost whenever he was alone, nearthe boys or Eleanor; but when Harry was with him, everything seemed so natural, so spontaneous. 

He didn't need to look for his place in the universe because Harry kept him on earth, next to him; it was like a magnet, a magnet around which he was gravitating without even knowing why.

 

"Like everything that's green, boy, I need you

But it's more than one and one makes two"

 

Green. Green. Harry's eyes were green, an emerald green. The lyrics to this song were so weird but fit the situation so well.

 

"Cause I wanna wrap you up

Wanna kiss your lips

I wanna make you feel wanted

And I wanna call you mine

Wanna hold your hand forever

And never let you forget it"

 

Wanted to hold him in his arms, to kiss his lips and make him feel how much he wanted to be with him. He wanted to call him his and.. What the hell was he saying?

Louis' blue eyes widened suddenly and held in a whine. Stop. Stop. Make his thoughts shut up, so they could stop torturing him and make him think such inappropriate things and-

 

/ Zayn had just let himself fall heavily on the sofa next to the television and Louis narrowed his eyes, upside down on the couch. 

 

-Pay attention to my furniture, please, he reprimanded him. 

-It's alright, Tomlinson, relax.

-Say that to Harry when he sees your footsteps on the white leather.

-Anyways, why are you making such a face?

-What face?

-The one you have when you're worried about something.

-Hm.

-Where's Harry?

-He went out to go rent a movie for tonight.

 -Which movie?

 -Told him to pick whatever he wanted.

 

Silence filled the room slowly before the oldest broke it again.

 

-Zayn? 

-Hm? 

-Have you ever listened to "Wanted"? 

-Yes. 

 

Louis opened his mouth again to add something more but nothing came out; just a small whimper.  

 

-Why?, the boy finally asked, who had realized that kind of question wasn't just a conversation filler.

 

Once more, Louis' lips opened but closed quickly after; and he repeated that three times more, still not able to emit a sound.

 

-Lou?

-I- I like the lyrics; they... They fit me well.

-It's a romantic song, the boy noted, raising an eyebrow.

-I know.

-Did you meet a girl?

The grimace that formed on Louis' lips told him that he wasn't wrong, but not quite right either./

  
  
The door slamming was what brought Louis back to reality, shaking him away from his memory with violence. He jumped and almost fell off the couch and he blinked quickly, adapting to the light around him.

Zayn was gone. Instead, next to the armrest was Harry, standing, swaying slowly under the weight of the paper bags he was holding. They were filled with groceries and the older boy immediately stood up to help his friend into the kitchen.

There, he dropped everything on the counter and grabbed a pen to scribble something on the notepad that was left there, not knowing all the necessary signs to from his sentence his BSL. 

 

**"You should've texted me; I would've come and helped you carry everything."**

 

The boy glanced at him over his shoulde and giggled, shaking his head from right to left.

 

**"That's new."**

 

He had replied with one hand, still swaying on his feet, his other arm filled with tin cans and his last letter didn't even look like a 'w', not following the curves that his handwriting usually showed. The oldest squinted his eyes, not understand his answer.

 

 **"You always hated unloading and putting the groceries away, Lou."**  

**"Oh. I can go back to my old habits, if you'd prefer."**

**"You always helped me even though you hated it."**

  **"Shit."**

 

Again, the boy's laughter filled the room and Louis stopped moving, his movements interrupted by the melody, moving him enough that he stopped in the middle of the room, arms reaching towards the refrigerator. 

How could this green-eyed boy, who was so much taller and stronger than him, manage to make such an innocent, angelic, perfect sound? The raspy noises that had left his lips sounded like nothing the other boy had ever heard before.

The curly haired man tapped his shoulder then to catch his attention and Louis closed his mouth, looking away from the dimples that had dug themselves in his friend's cheeks.

 

 __Are you okay?_ , his friend signed softly.

 

The oldest nodded and turned away from his friend, who was used to his mood swings and didn't bother asking.

They finished putting away the groceries silently, and Louis noticed Harry had bought all his favourite brands; from the honey oatmeal to the Cadbury Cocoa Powder. He had even gotten Ben & Jerry's strawberry cheesecake icecream.

His blue eyes closed for a moment and he sighed; why did Harry care so much? Why did he go that far just to please him when he was just so horrible to him; sometimes even mean? Why did this curly boy seemed so involved in Louis' life?  
He glanced once more at the concerned , who was setting down a jar of rhubarb jam in the cupboard, the one Louis couldn't reach.  
When he turned around, Harry caught his eyes and a timid smile formed on his face, but the smile wasn't wide enough to make his dimples pop out.

 

 __Harry?_ , asked Louis to avoid having to explain why he was staring at his friend.

__Yes?_

__Did I.. Was I in a relationship?_

 

 The boy's eyes widened, wider than they ever had before and he felt his legs make him move back until they hit the worktop. 

How did he know? Who had told him? Did he remember?

Harry didn't know how to think or breathe anymore, the questions were filling his head, making him feel queasy and his heart was beating so, so fast, beating against his rib cage heavily.

 

-Why?, he articulated without a sound.

 __I remembered a discussion I had_ , the oldest explained nervously, hoping he was clear enough.

 

The curly boy just nodded, waiting for the end of his sentence. 

 

 __With Zayn,_  Louis added. I _was telling him I was in love; or something like that._

 

Harry's already uneven breath hitched, before he remembered how to inhale, then exhale; inhale; exhale.

 

__Haz? Is something wrong?_

He nodded again.

__You're all..._

The oldest frowned, not knowing the right sign to say 'white'. So he just pointed at the cream wall, grimacing.

__I'm okay._

 

Again, an awkward silence filled the room, only broken by their erractic and anxious breathing. Louis, because he knew the answer could be a shock to him, Harry because he clearly didn't know how to react.

 

__Harry?_

__No, you weren't in love with a girl._

 

The oldest's teeth nicked into his bottom lip at the same time as Harry's were, and they both looked down at the while tiling.

Harry hadn't lied, he had just hidden the truth with another.

Louis, on the other hand, didn't understand; hadn't he just remembered something? Or maybe Harry didn't know about it? He had maybe talked with Zayn about his feelings but not with Harry? Harry, who was supposed to be his best friend? Why were all these questions tangling themselves in his head? Why couldn't his flashback be a few seconds longer? He only needed a few tiny seconds that could help him understand all these informations he was getting but couldn't connect. Nothing made sense.

He looked up to notice his friend looked lost and as soon as he caught his attention, he turned around, pretending to be looking for something before coming back with the notepad.

**"You should call Zayn."**

With that, he dropped the notepad next to the cookies on the counter and left the kitchen without any more explanations, leaving the rest of the groceries on the floor.

Louis glanced at his friend's handwriting quickly, then followed his advice, getting his cellphone from his pocket to notice he had to unread texts from Eleanor.

 

**"From Eleanor: Do you have something planned for tonight? xx"**

  **"From Eleanor: I have friends who are going to a gala; they have to extra tickets; you were the first person I thought of to come with me. xx"**

He wasn't in the mood and he sighed heavily.

**"To Eleanor: Hm. Not a fan of gala's...x"**

He had only pressed on the home button to look for Zayn's number in his contact list that his phone vibrated in his hands again. Had she been waiting on an answer from him?!

**"From Eleanor: We can do something else then? xx"**

**"To Eleanor: Tomorrow? I have to see a friend tonight. x"**

He found what hewas looking for in his contact for; the name at the very bottom of it; under 'Z'. He picked up after three rings.

 

-Hello?

-Hey!

 -Hey Louis, you alright?

-Yeah, hm, are you busy?

-Not right now, no.

-Can we see each other?

-Of course, do you want me to come over?

-No, uh, I'm not sure that would be a good idea. Should we meet at- err... 

-Starbucks? 

-Starbucks, the one on the shore?

-The one you used to go to with Haz?

 

Louis' eyes widened with surprise and he stuttered something incomprehensible that made Zayn swear. Shit, he'd messed up. 

 

-How did you know- 

-I'll meet you there in twenty minutes; I have to go, the man cut him off before hanging up.

 

The boy stayed like that for a few seconds, phone still against his ear, staring at nothing. It's only when his phone vibrated again that he moved again.

 

**"From Eleanor: Oh. Pity... Yes, no problem for tomorrow. Have fun Louis! xxx"**

Three hugs? Wow, she must really miss him.

However, he didn't reply the text, only taking the time to write down something on the notepad before leaving the flat.

 

*

 

When the bell of the coffee shop rung, warning of someone entering it, Zayn was already there, sat at one of the tables next to the window.

 

-Louis!, someone exclaimed before he could even move.  


The concerned turned his head to notice the bartender from the other day, shaking his arm in the air to catch his attention.

He narrowed his eyes and answered him shyly, more to be polite than by interest; he didn't remember him, or his name.

 

-Isn't Harry with you?

Always the same question.

-No, he had an essay to finish, he lied, not wanting to talk about it.

He walked away without turning around and sat in front of Zayn, who looked up from his phone to smile at him.

-How are you?, he asked immediately.

-Hm; been better.

-I suppose... I'm sorry, Louis, for everything's that happening to you, I know it must not be easy.

 -Yeah...

-New flashbacks?

-That's why I wanted to see you, actually, the oldest sighed, sinking into his chair a little more. 

-Yeah?

 -I had one where... well, I think it was one.

-Explain it anyway.

-I was talking with you, I was telling you about a song, "Wanted".

-By Hunter Hayes?

Louis nodded.

-I remember that conversation.

-Really?!

-Yes. Why?

-Because I asked Harry afterwards, if I was dating someone before the accident; well, if I was in love with a gril, must I guess he didn't know about it because he guaranteed I wasn't dating anyone. But that's weird, because he was my best-

 

Louis stopped in the middle of his sentence because his friend was frowning.

 

-What? What's wrong?

-The thing is... Actually, you...

 

How was he going to say this? Did he need to lie to Louis and tell him and didn't know anything about it either?

Zayn remembered the day quite clearly; his friend had confessed to Niall that he thought he was in love with Harry, but he had tried to make him understand bydiverted ways. He had beat around the bush for a few minutes, bringing up this song, to finally give up and talk openly.

He hadn't been surprised, he had seen it coming in the previous months where the two men had been getting closer and closer.

 

 -Zayn?, called Louis, breaking his thoughts.

-Sorry?

-You stopped talking in the middle of your sentence!

-Oh. What.. What was I saying?

 

 He still didn't know what to reveal or not.

 

-The conversation was about my- love life?

-Hm. Actually, you just told me the song fit you because you loved someone. Then you drove me crazy for like, two hours, before I gave up; you never told me who you were talking about.

-But I was in love?

-Yes.

The affirmation had slipped past the man's lips almost immediately, in an almost inaudible whisper. The nostalgia and despair were so easy to spot that even a stranger could have noticed it.

Zayn had maybe been to quick to reply because Louis raised an eyebrow, not quite conviced.

-Listen, Louis, he tried to escape. I have to go meet Perrie at the cinema, talk later?

-We're- wait, you can't leave me here!

His friend was already putting his coat back on and was standing up from his chair, leaving a tip for the waiter who was called -Louis remembered- Edward.

 -Zayn!

-Sorrry, Lou. Talk about it with Harry?

-What's fucking wrong with you all? He told me to come to you and- you know what? Fuck yourselves!

 

The man threw his chair back and without another look at anything or anyone, he left the coffee shop hurriedly.

 

Harry fucking Styles.

That was the only coherent thought in Louis' angry mind when he entered the flat around 9:30pm. He slammed the door with rage, not that he wanted to warn anyone; the only person here was deaf.

 

Harry fucking Styles.

He immediately headed to the kitchen, avoiding the empty living room, certain his friend would be cooking dinner for him as he did every evening; but the room was also empty.

 

Harry fucking Styles.

Louis needed to talk to him.

Now. He wanted explanations; really. Not simple words that didn't mean anything or metaphores to expose the truth. He didn't want any of the bad lies that were thrown in his face, he didn't want any of their secretiveness, he just wanted the truth.

He crossed the hall urgently but stopped in front of the door to his friend's room; his anger was turning to discomfort: he didn't need to knock, but could he go in just like that?

No, he probably wasn't allowed to, no matter how angry he was. He just poked his head into the room, his eyes scanning the room and not finding the boy's body; maybe he'd gone out? Weird. He was about to shut the door when he noticed movement near the bed area.

Intrigued, he waited for a few moments and the blankets were pulled, a whine reaching his ears: Harry was there, laying under the pile of folded sheets, where Louis couldn't see him from where he was standing. His closed eyes seemed agitated by a nightmare that his tense features confirmed; he was clenching hiseyelids a little stronger every second.

Louis lost any trace of anger then and bit his lip, just when Harry rolled over, trembling, letting out another whimper.

A whimper that broke the oldest's heart, who felt powerless and unwanted; he couldn't stay here.

Standing awkwardly for a couple more minutes, Louis was about to turn over and leave the room when he saw a tear roll down his friend's eyelashes, rolling down his cheekbone and disappearing in the blankets.

The resolution the boy had just made disappeared aswell and he couldn't help but step a little closer to wipe the wet trace away.

A few inches were seperating their faces and when the oldest's fingers caressed the boy's cheek, his features softened immediately, any trace of pain leaving his face.

The blue irises then widened with surprise and stepped back right awway, nothing that as soon as he didn, the weak and strong body started shaking again. Another weak whimper left Harry's lips, who curled up on himself and Louis felt the need to brush a curl that was falling onto his friend's forehead and he felt slightly fuilty. The thing happened again; as soon as their skin touched, Harry's eyelids relaxed and he breathed a little more calmly.

 

What was happening?

Again, he moved his hand away and observed the contraction of the muscles of his jaw.

Before the cry of pain scream could escape his mouth, Louis had grabbed Harry's hand and sat on the edge of the bed timidly, not sure of what he was doing.

He didn't know why he was acting this way, but the curly haired boy couldn't keep on suffering, because it was unbearable.

Wiping another tear from his cheek, Louis stayed like that for another moment, brushing his hand against Harry's chocolate curls like he wanted to.

After a dozen of minutes, however, when he felt his friend's body be way more relaxed, he stood up slowlu, his fingers leaving the youngest's face to fall down onto his body.

But when he was about to leave to the door, something grabbed his wrist and he jumped, surprised.

 

 -Boo... mumured Harry, his voice still weak.

 

The nickname surprised him once again and to be honest, Louis wasn't sure what between the nickname and the raspy voice had shaken him the most. He didn't move, just looked downto notice the boy's eyes were still shut.

But his grip was pulling him towards the bed and after a few seconds, he gave up, slipping under the covers to lay next to his friend.

 

He was still fast asleep next to him, so he probably wouldn't remember it anyways.


	14. Chapter Twelve

**"Our reason is always disappointed by the inconstancy of appearances." –Blaise Pascal.**

***

When his eyelids fluttered open the next morning, the only thing he could think of was that the bed was empty. Not that he'd hoped to find Louis' warm and asleep body next to him like in his dreams; but because it was a new day, another fight not to give up.

He clearly remembered going to bed after Louis left the apartment to go meet Zayn the night before.

Despite the fatigue, he just hadn't been able to fall asleep peacefully; he just kept rolling in his bed, constantly wondering why Louis didn't remember anything about him.

He'd actually had a few flashbacks already, which was really great and encouraging; but they were all about someone else. Niall, Liam, Zayn; Louis had even had one about his grandmother's birthday party two years ago.

But Harry, nothing. Louis didn't remember anything concerning Harry; not a single moment, not a conversation, not even a look! How was that possible? Why was it happening to him?

He couldn't have forgotten everything about these last four years, it was impossible; they were the most beautiful, the most unforgettable years he had ever lived. That was it; they couldn't be forgotten if they had meant at least something in the boy's life.

So did they have no meaning to him? Was that the end of the story?

No.

No, that was out; those moments were as essential and serious to Louis as they were to him, Harry refused to believe otherwise.

The young man rolled on his side, well decided to get up and finally think about something else, before his face met the other pillow. His entire body froze and his eyes closed for a minute; it wasn't a dream.

The pillowsheet smelled like orange blossom, lavender, patchouli and lime; it smelled like Guilty by Gucci.

Guilty by Gucci was Louis' cologne.

The emerald eyes slowly opened wide and the realization hit him. He sat up straighter: if the scent that was emanating from the bed sheets brought him back to Louis, then there were two possibilities.

Harry sleepwalked and had fun spraying his bed with Louis' cologne during his slep – because he wouldn't that while being awake, as desperate as he could be.

Or Louis had slept here.

>Harry didn't sleepwalk.

His heart missed a beat and his head snapped immediately, looking for any presence or a camera that could prove him this was all a joke, some kind of sick game; but no, none of that.

When did Louis get in his bed?

Harry replayed the entire night in his head, a shiver running through his entire body when he remembered how horrible his nightmare had been, but it was quickly overshadowed by... The moment came back to his memory:

Louis had made the bad dreams go away just by laying by his side. Louis had come into the room when he came back, while Harry was sleeping.

He remembered, even though it was blurred and so far away, his friend's hands untangling his curls slowly, he remembered the caress of his fingertips against his forehead, his warm body glued to his when he had laid down next to him.

Shit.

That was the word that kept resonating in Harry's mind.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He jumped ouf the blankets, not bothering to change his pajamas for a pair of jeans, and he crossed the hallway, entered the kitchen and stopped at the door frame, because Louis was standing in front of the oven, his back turned to him.

Shit.

The blue eyed boy must have heard his footsteps on the tiling because he turned around softly, shooting him a small smile, before turning the hood on, which sucked in the smoke coming out of the frying pan and the cooking plates. He was cooking pancakes; or at least, he was trying, if he could trust their dark colour.

Harry stared at him for a while, stunned: his friend wasn't showing any trace of shame on his face, or at least none about what happened the night before. Nothing major had happened but... but they had slept in the same bed! I was hoping for a reaction, questions! Nothing? It didn't remind him of anything?

Louis wasn't more impressed than that? He wasn't even mad at him for asking him to stay even thought it would have been better for the both of them if he'd left?

He only realized his eyes had drifted off Louis' back when he blinked, noticing he was now having a hard time trying to reach for something at the top shelf of the cupboard.

Putting his astonishment aside, a small smile crossed Harry's face when he thought about the fact that even though Louis was older than him, he was still so tiny. So he moved to help him and his stomach accidentally brused the oldest's back when he raised his arm to reach the jar of jam. For a short moment, he could swear he saw Louis' muscles tense and a shiver run through his body, but it was so fast, so it was probably just his imagination.

It was his imagination again. His imagination that was playing with his mind and killing him slowly.

He stepped back, handing the jar to Louis and avoiding his blue eyes that were focused on him.

Maybe Louis actually wanted to apologize for what had happened last night; but Harry didn't want to hear any apologies. He just wanted to hear it wasn't a big deal, that it was normal for him to sleep in his 'best friend''s bed. They had already talked about it when Louis got scared of the thunder and he came in his room and cuddled with him; he had then told him he didn't know what to think about all that. Had he changed his mind?

Harry wouldn't know, because that would imply a truth, a truth that could be as pleasant as it could be painful, and he was too weak to hear it right now.

So he just avoided the confrontation and left the kitchen quickly.

*

Louis had been channel surfing for half an hour, glancing at Harry every now and then. Harry, who was sat on the white leather sofa next to the tv, reading a book. He should be reading too, because it was a mandatory reading for uni, a work about a Baroque musician called Matthew Loeke, but knowing that man had written Macbeth really wasn't that interesting to Louis.

The curly haired lad, on the other hand, looked passionate by the british composer's literature and his eyes never left the pages.

Louis refocused his attention on the screen showing some random and boring show; and he raised an eyebrow.

How did he end up on a French channel?

Sighing negligently and shaking his head, he sunk into the couch a bit more and changed the channel again, still glancing at his friend frequently.

He wasn't sure when it happened but he ended up falling asleep, quicker than he ever had.

/ Louis was walking in the park near the university; it was just another Tuesday, except for the fact that it was surprisingly warm for a day of November. The temperature was over 66°F and the light jean jacket he was wearing felt heavy on his shoulders.

Before he even had the time to take another step to head over to the fountain, someone jumped on his back swiftly and two soft hands covered his sides.

-Guess who, whispered the voice behind him, amused and trembling.

He would never get used to that deep, raspy and fragile voice he didn't hear enough. In one experienced movement, he dragged the boy so he could face him, having immediately recognized him. He wrapped his arms around his waist, tilting his face up.  
A few loose curls were falling from the beanie he was wearing and framed his green sparkly eyes. The oldest blew softly to make them fly, so he could admire his lover's face.

A soft and tanned skin, remains of the summer they had spent together, which was making his irises pop even more. In this moment, they were somewhere between grey, emerald and azure blue. Or maybe it was his own eyes reflecting into Harry's that gave them this beautiful colour?

Harry had a cute button nose, a little snub but still keeping a straight curvature.

The oldest blinked a few times, then carried on scanning the other man's face, not letting go of him. Harry had now tangled his arms around his boyfriend's neck.

A smile broke through his face, making two dimples pop in his cheeks, lifting his pink cheekbones. He was panting from having to run after his boyfriend, and his lips were parted and red.

Louis just wasn't able to look away from his lips, he was staring at him as if it was the last time he could see them.

-Boo, the boy whispered with a smile.

He looked up and lost himself in the green shadows of the youngest's eyes, and he lost awareness of space, time or the world around them.

Without any efforts, their faces moved closer to the other's and Harry slipped away from Louis' embrace when their lips met. He nibbled at his bottom lip, starting a fight between their mouths; which Louis gave up at the same time as Harry did, parting his lips.

Harry's fingers moved from his neck to his hair, tangling themselves in Louis' brown strands of hair. Louis pulled him by the waist, bringing them closer./

When he woke up, he looked around him immediately, only to notice he was now alone in the room and Harry wasn't there anymore, thank god. He jumped on his feet and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind him, taking his clothes off to take a cold shower.

What was going on with him? Why were the weird dreams coming back? His mind was about to explode and he couldn't think straight, the flashbacks of his dreams flooding through his head. Every time he tried to make them go away, they only came back, stronger and more aggressive.

As the freezing water ran down his naked skin, making his muscles freeze without him even noticing, nothing made sense anymore. Everything was blurred, confusing, wrong.

He couldn't dream about Harry like that, he had never had that kind of dreams about a boy; but since he woke up in that goddamn hospital, it happened twice!

The worst in all that was that it felt so real, it sounded so real! He had been so sure the moment actually existed.

But that was impossible; he couldn't have lived that moment, because that would mean he kissed Harry, which would mean he loved Harry. But Louis didn't feel and had never felt that way. He didn't like Harry that way.

He shouldn't have stayed with him last night; that was probably what had messed with his mind enough to give him weird dreams. That was the only realistic explanation to all this.

He had to stop sleeping with Harry.

For a short moment, the line of his own thoughts scared him and he wondered how the hell he came to that conclusion, before praying that no one in the world could read what was going on in his head right now. Even he didn't understand what was going on; that's how bad it was.

He closed his eyes and turned the water off, guiding his trembling body out of the shower stall, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

One thing was certain, he needed to go out; he had to leave to think about something and delete that dream from his mind.

He wasn't going to drink, because he knew way too well how it went last time, but he wasn't going to stay in this apartment waiting for sleep to get to him, only to get more nightmares.

He left the bathroom hastily; his hair still wet, and ran into a confused Harry who just happened to be there at the wrong time.

He stumbled under the impact, his back hitting the wall. Louis had managed to stay on his feet but felt the impact in every cell off his body, making him scowl.

_ _Sorry_ , the boy signed, getting back on his feet.

The oldest shook his head, ashamed, and his cheeks felt like they were on fire when he met his friend's eyes. Harry was staring at him; he probably looked crazy. But he couldn't help it; the look that Harry was shooting him brought him back to the dream he'd had not even one hour ago.

Fucking hell, he truly hoped he couldn't read minds as easily as he read lips, he swore to himself, stumbling before he walked away.

He headed back to the living room and grabbed his phone, clicking on his screen for a few seconds before he found the phone number he was looking for.

"To Eleanor: Still wanna hang out? x "

He didn't even have time to put his phone down that it vibrated, warning him of a new text. Yes, she must be camping in front of her cellphone.

"From Eleanor: I was wondering if you were still wanting to do something! Yes, just tell me when and where. Xx"  
"To Eleanor: Movies? I'll pick you up on the campus in about ten minutes."  
"From Eleanor: No problem. Xx"

He tucked his phone in his back pocket and turned around to notice Harry was leaned against the door frame, observing him.

_ _You're going out?,_  he signed softly, his face empty from emotion.

__I'm meeting a friend to go watch a movie, don't wait for me tonight, alright?_

The boy's eyes widened with sadness and before Louis could add anything, he nodded and walked off to his room, slamming the door.

What? What had he done wrong, this time?

Louis closed his eyes, sighing mentally, and then grabbed his jacket and his keys.

*

Harry wasn't able to cry; he had been lying on his bed for a while and was almost sure Louis was out of the flat by now. He had gone out to meet a 'friend' at the cinema. His heart hurt just thinking about Louis holding a girl's hand and he had to control himself to not start screaming his pain away.

Screaming was the only thing he could do, as his body refused to let him cry any more. He knew he could feel better after a good cry, bit his pupils stayed dry.

It looked like he had given up already; Louis had managed to crush all of his hopes as if they meant nothing at all.

Harry felt betrayed, violated, rejected. He had felt a whole lot of emotions in his life, going from shame to euphoria, from wanting to disappear in a hole to wanting to scream how happy he was from the rooftops, sadness, or feeling like the tears would never stop falling down. Despite that, he felt so rejected, like he was being pushed against a wall, and it was by far the most painful thing he had ever gone through.

He grabbed his phone painfully and quickly texted his friends. He didn't want to stay alone if he couldn't even cry himself to sleep.

"To Zayn ; Nialler ; Li: Can you come over?"

*

The theme song had just started playing and Louis already knew this was going to be extremely boring, and the next two hours were going to be the longest of his life.

Movies seemed like a great idea before the young lady started giving him puppy eyes to try and convince him to go watch the latest vampire romance movie.

God keep him to murder someone.

He closed his eyes , sighed and after a few minutes of sappy dialogues, he felt Eleanor's elbow digging into his side, making him whimper.

-Ouch!

-Look at the movie, Louis, now is the best moment!, she whispered.

-But you haven't even seen the movie yet, how could you know it's the)

-Shhhhhht!

He sighed again, rolling in eyes but shutting up anyway.

He never understood girls who went to see movies with a guy; didn't they understand the advantages of watching a good action or scary movie? They could pretend to be scared and cuddle next to them or grab their hand; not bore them to death with some crappy romance shit.

However, Louis didn't say anything, forcing himself to stay awake for his friend and didn't even complain when he learned he was going to have to keep on watching for thirty more minutes.

*

Harry was sat leg crossed on the couch, but he didn't even care about his Converse shoes staining the white leather. He was holding a glass of soda and was staring at the floor without actually seeing it. Niall, Liam and Zayn were sat on the cream rug of the living room, shooting each other concerned looks.

Harry had just explained them the situation with Louis and where he'd left to.

-I still don't understand why he hasn't told him anything, sighed Zayn out loud, knowing his friend wasn't paying attention to them.

-I do, replied Liam right away. I don't think we would have had better results if we had told him the truth.

Niall climbed onto the couch swiftly and brought the curly haired boy into a hug, not adding anything to th conversation. Harry let himself be rocket, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut.

_ _Are you okay?,_  the irish boy stil asked when he let go of him.

_ _What I don't understand,_  the man signed hastily,  _is; why me?_

__Why you?_

__Why does he remember all of you guys? At least, he had flashbacks about Niall, Li and you, with his sisters, his family, but nothing about me!_

__It could take hi-_

Harry interrupted him and shook his head, he didn't need to be reassured with lies; he just wanted to explain how he was feeling and let it all out.

_ _It's like I don't exist anymore, he doesn't remember anything, not even one little moment! It's not difficult, just one look or one smile, fuck!_

-Harry, murmured Liam softly, not really knowing how to comfort his friend.

__I know he needs time, Liam; but what's going to happen if he decides to take the next step with... his friend?_

A light smile broke across Niall's lips and Zayn explained just how the two other guys were feeling, lightening up the mood in the room.

__I thought you were never jealous, Haz?_

He shot them a fake mean glare, grabbing the notebook and the pen that were laying on the table and copied a sentence he had once read somewhere; even though he'd never thought he'd be using it one day.

**"I'm not saying I hate her; but if I had a gun with two bullets, her, Hitler and Ben Laden in the same room; I'd shoot her twice."**

\- Love is a dangerous game, murmured Niall.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

« Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. »

***

-Lou!, called Zayn when the latter entered the cafeteria at lunch time.

 

The boy looked up and smiled at him kindly before he let himself fall on the bench, next to his friend, looking pissed off.

 

-Zayn, listen, he started shyly. About Saturday, I-

 

-Don't worry, I know you didn't mean it.

 

-Sorry, I still shouldn't have started shouting at you.

 

-Yelling for what?, asked Niall, who had just sat down next to them, his plate filled with tons of food.

 

-Nothing, the man smiled, saving his friend from an embarrassing situation, and he patted his shoulder friendly.

 

-Oh, Louis!, the blonde man exclaimed suddenly, pouting and quickly changing the topic of the conversation. Where did you find that piece of cheesecake?

 

-Right over there, next to the yogurts. But do you want mine? I'm not that hungry and-

 

-I love you, Tomlinson, his friend cut him off, jumping at his neck to wrap his arms around him and kiss his cheek wetly.

 

He grabbed the plate and started munching on it immediately, not waiting before starting to talk again.

 

-Harry didn't come?, he asked, glancing around him worriedly.

 

-Yes, replied Louis. There's just, um, his friend there, who came to see him at the end of class, she wanted to talk to him.

 

-His friend?

 

-The blonde one, who was with us at the table the other day.

 

-Lily?

 

-Yeah, that's her name, he mumbled, scowling, and ignored the pain in his stomach when he'd heard her name.

 

Then, the curly haired lad appeared, the girl by his side. She was wearing an amused smile, and had stolen the boy's green beanie, which was now resting on her head proudly.

 

-Hey guys! How's everyone!

 

-Couldn't be better, Zayn replied softly, who shifted on the bench to let them both sit with them. So, what did you do this weekend?

 

He didn't mention they had all seen Harry the day before to keep him company, so he wouldn't be embarrassed, and turned his gaze to Lily and Louis. The latter was observing the girl's head, anger in his eyes. She didn't seem to notice, and stole a chip in Niall's plate before turning her attention back to Zayn.

 

-Nothing much, she replied with a smile, squishing her tomato with her fork; I read for most of the day, then I went for a run.

 

-So, lazy Sunday, what about you, Lou?

 

-Um, I... I went to the movies with a friend.

 

Lily started coughing dramatically and her friend had to pat her on the back to help her calm down. She looked up after a few minutes, her eyes red and brimmed with tears, raising an eyebrow at the oldest.

 

-You what?

 

Taken aback, Louis repeated his sentence, just to receive an even meaner look from the girl. If her eyes could shoot bullets, it was clear he wouldn't be very alive right now. Something was telling him that right now, she probably heated him as much as he hated her for stealing her best friend's beanie.

 

Her irises lost any trace of anger when she whined, turning her head to Harry, who had just elbowed her.

 

-What's wrong with you, Haz?

 

He bit his lip and signed something, so fast Louis couldn't understand much, except for the words 'Nothing', 'boys', 'yesterday' and 'I'm fine'.

 

As a response, she just sighed heavily and shook her head, not looking up before she was sure she could handle a calm conversation without jumping to Louis' throat.

 

-So, was the movie good?

 

-Uh, no, not really; the boy answered, still slightly surprised by the tension emanating from the lady in front of him.

 

_What was it?, signed his friend, who looked him in the eyes for the first time since he joined them at the table.

 

Louis, who had turned his head quick enough to notice his friend, shot him a smile, and tried explaining what the movie was. He didn't know the right signs to say it.

 

_Articulate, the curly boy replied to help him.

 

-Twilight, the last one of the saga.

 

He had paid attention to pronouncing every syllable slowly to let the boy read on his lips, and in contrary to what he was expecting, the boy didn't nod when he finished.

 

His entire face shut down and he frowned; the expression in his eyes hurt Louis, because there was so much sadness and pain in those two emerald orbs. The flash of pain only lasted for a second, though, because he blinked, and then his face became normal again, and he continued eating as if nothing happened.

 

*

 

Louis wasn't really paying attention to the lesson that was happening in front of him and kept shooting intrigued looks to the row below him; a mass of brown curls was bowed on top of a piece of paper, on which he was sketching something. The piece wasn't visible from where Louis was sat, but he wished he was closer to Harry at that moment.

 

To see the drawing, obviously, only to see the drawing.

 

The boy had left without waiting for him and he looked slightly agitated, had been since their conversation about the movie he'd seen with Eleanor. He wasn't exactly sure, but Louis felt like maybe that was what had made him angry.

 

Why would him going to the movies with his friend make Harry angry? He was twenty, right? He could go to the movies whenever he wanted without having to explain himself to anyone, or at least not Harry.

 

The pencil was still running on the paper messily, however, in a way, Louis knew the drawing was pretty. He didn't know why, it just seemed obvious: the gray lines had to be perfect.

 

When the lesson ended, Harry jumped, startled by all the sudden movements around him, and he quickly gathered his things. He was one of the first people to leave the room, before Louis even had the time to stand up.

 

Collecting his thoughts, the latter stood up, forcing himself to think about something else. Harry was all he could think about, recently. If that actually became a thing, he was going to need getting help from a psychologist: 'Hi, I'm Louis; I'm coming to see you because I keep thinking about my best friend and I have wet dreams in which he kisses me senseless until I beg him to let me breathe. Do you have any advice?'

 

He rolled his eyes and swore in his mouth, shivering at the mere thought of those dreams he couldn't understand, nor explain.

 

*

 

When he entered their flat one hour later, he threw his backpack on the ground and threw himself on the couch, making it shift a little. He had been stuck in traffic tonight and it had taken him over thirty minutes to get home.

 

He was supposed to leave with Harry, but had wasted ten minutes waiting for him before Liam told him he had seen the boy walk home.

 

Honestly, if he wasn't lazy and terribly exhausted, he probably go yell at him, because it was very impolite to make him wait in the cold without any warning.

 

After another ten minutes, he managed to open his eyes and sat up. He grabbed his backpack on the floor and headed to his room, stopping in front of Harry's and cranking the door open.

 

He wanted to warn the boy he was home and ask him why he'd left without him, but the room was empty. Surprised, he raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps in just to find his bag thrown on the bed, unopened and untouched.

 

He turned over right away, checking the bathroom and the kitchen, only to come back to his starting point without any more clues.

 

It was obvious he had come back here, because his stuff was there, but what about him, where was he? Where was Harry? He hadn't even left a note, and that wasn't like him; well, it didn't seem normal, Harry always made sure to leave a note.

He immediately took out his cellphone, typing a text quickly, and he didn't even have to think about what to write, because his brain was in full panic mode, even though he wasn't sure why.

 

« To Harry: Harry. Where are you? »

 

Five minutes passed and he was still sat on one of the stools next to the counter, staring at his screen stupidly.

 

« To Harry: Harry? You haven't even left a note. »

 

Another five minutes, during which the 'tick-tock' of the clock behind him was worse that a dagger digging under his skin. He didn't know why he was so worried, but he just was.

 

« To Harry: It's not funny anymore. fucking answer? »

 

« To Harry: when you come back, be ready for me to yell at you. »

 

It was now 6:10pm.

 

Not thinking anymore, he dialled Harry's number quickly; he knew it by heart. He didn't have the time to be scared about that revelation that a ringtone rung out in the apartment.

 

No way; that stupid curly boy hadn't done that?

 

He jumped off his stool and headed to where the music was coming from, soon faced with the door to Harry's room. It came from his backpack.

 

He opened it hastily to notice that yes, he had done that: he went out without warning him, without leaving him a note, and he hadn't taken his phone with him.

 

At that moment, his heart missed a mean, and he didn't understand why, so he kept looking through his phone, his thumb gliding on the screen in a violent and vertical line, scrolling down his list of contacts.

 

-Hello?, replied an Irish voice after three rings.

 

-Niall, tell me you know where Harry is.

 

-Uh? No, he was coming-

 

-I knew he was walking home, his stuff is here; but he isn't and he didn't take his phone with him! Why did he get one, if it's just not to use it?

 

-Lou, calm down. He probably went out for a walk?

 

-He always left a note, until now.

 

-Louis, what do you think could happen, his friend laughed softly, breaking the tension a little. Do you think someone broke into the flat and kidnapped him?

 

-Hm.

 

-So?

 

-You're fucking annoying.

 

-I know, he replied, the smile perceptible in his voice. Relax, Lou. He's alright, he's nineteen.

 

-Yeah.

 

-I gotta go, the water for my tea's ready; calm down. Harry's doing perfectly okay and I'm sure he won't be late to come home.

 

Louis sniggered but nodded, feeling a little better; so he said goodbye to his friend before hanging up.

 

The weight in his stomach had lightened up, just slightly, so he threw another look around the tidied room, turning over resignedly. Halfway through, the backpack on the bed caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks.

 

He didn't mean to creep, but suddenly, Harry's folder was between his hand, and he bit his lip. He knew the drawing he'd made during today's class was probably in it, he had seen Harry fold it in there before leaving the room hurriedly.

 

The tentation and need to open it were strong, but his mind kept telling him it was wrong, that he didn't have the right to spy into his friend's life just like that, that he was violating his privacy.

 

He closed his eyes, sighing, and put the folder back on the bed, standing up to finally leave the room, but he stopped in his tracks again.

 

Harry wouldn't know about it, because he would put everything back in place. He turned around again and opened the cardboard quickly, sliding the sheets and observing the neat handwriting on every single sheet, before he found what he was looking for.

 

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. He took out the sketch, that wasn't really one, finding it oddly familiar.

 

Something in the precision of these curves and outlines reminded him of something, as if he'd seen it somewhere already, somewhere that wasn't a folded piece of dirty paper.

 

The entry door opened, and someone entered the flat, making Louis jump, and he started panicking, his hands suddenly shaking and struggling to close the folder and slide it back into the boy's backpack.

 

He hurried out of the room right at the moment the mass of brown curls appeared in front of him, and his friend frowned when he saw him panting and his face all red.

 

_Are you okay?, he signed quickly.

 

Relieved he hadn't been caught, Louis nodded, taking a step back to lean against the wall and close his eyes for a moment, and he finally felt his heartbeat slow down.

 

A hand reached out for his arm and shivers run down his back; his eyelids opening right away while he stepped back awkwardly. Harry was stood in front of him, his fingertips now touching nothing but air.

 

Carefully, he put his hand down and took a step back too, not understanding what was going on. He tilted his head to the side and shot him a surprised glance.

 

By way of an explanation, Louis straightened up and smiled, somewhat embarrassed, before he practically ran to his room and closed the door behind him, throwing himself on his round bed.

 

He'd had just enough time not to make this uncomfortable between them; what would have Harry said if he'd found him in his room? He frowned just thinking about what just happened and shook his head, trying to wipe the moment away from his memory. Everything had gone fine, so it was useless to even think about 'what if's.

 

If he managed not to think about what happened, the other boy's face didn't want to leave his mind.

 

He was sure about two things; he clearly needed to consider getting help from a psychologist, and he still had no idea where Harry had gone.

 

*

 

The latter had just shut the faucet down, his kettle filled to the brim when he noticed Louis had sat down on one of the stools next to the counter and he was staring at him, looking slightly upset.

 

_Lou?, he signed quickly, leaning against the worktop once he finished.

 

_Where were you?

 

_I'm sorry?

 

The oldest grabbed the notebook that was laying there and re-wrote his question, even though he knew the boy's answer was purely rethorical.

 

« Do you often just leave without warning anyone? »

 

The smile that was painted on his face disappeared and he furrowed his brows.

 

« Sorry mum. »

 

« You're annoying, Harry. »

 

« Sorry for being annoying. »

 

« You could have at least left a note to tell me, I don't know, you went out for drinks with your girlfriend! »

 

He was about to hand the notebook back to his friend, but he thought about something else he needed to write down first.

 

« And usually, you're supposed to keep your phone with you. »

 

Not one trace of joy was visible on the youngest boy's face now, anger slowly winning over his features while his eyes scanned the sentence.

 

« But I don't have to explain myself to you, fucking hell! Did I tell you something when you called me at four in the morning, completely smashed, asking me to pick you up? Did I yell at you? »

 

-For that, you'd have to talk, Louis mumbled in his teeth, the looking up at his friend, only to notice he was looking at him with shiny eyes.

 

Oh, shit. Anything but that.

 

Before he even had the time to correct himself, the curly haired lad had pushed him against the wall and he left the room in a whirlwind, tears already streaming down his face.

 

He had seen it; he had read the words on his lips.

 

At that moment, no swear words or punches felt strong enough to balance the mistake he had just done. He wanted to smash his head against the white wall until the expression he'd seen on Harry's face disappeared from his mind.

 

But he knew that was impossible; the hurt and wide eyes would keep on haunting him. All the pain he'd seen in the emerald irises were gonna keep on playing in his head like a nightmare.

 

And it wasn't one, he wasn't going to wake up at any moment, out of breath, relieved that it was all just a dream and he hadn't hurt Harry again. It was stupid to believe otherwise; as stupid as hoping for rain in the desert: useless and disappointing.

 

Louis damned himself once more; it was just a thought that had crossed his mind and that he didn't mean, and Harry definitely wasn't supposed to 'hear' it. But he hadn't been discrete enough, probably lacked some self-control, he'd let the anger speak for him and the only thing that had cause was making his best friend cry.

 

What he had written on the notepad was probably what had made him say what he didn't mean: Louis had been selfish, he was yelling at Harry but he wasn't better, he was probably worse.

 

He grabbed the pen and threw it against the window then started pulling at his hair furiously, reading Harry's last words again.

 

*

 

The curly boy had locked himself in his room, had thrown himself on the bed and buried his head in the pillow, muffling his sobs, that were growing stronger by the minute.

 

It hadn't been his intention to push Louis, but it had happened before he could control himself, the pain and the anger controlling his movements, and he regretted it.

 

Over everything else he was feeling right now, he regretted it, he didn't want to hurt him.

 

The boy in the kitchen wasn't Louis; his Louis wouldn't have said something like that, he wouldn't even have thought of it.

 

Sure, their relationship had been regulated by fights, highs and lows, tears and apologies, but they had never fallen into nastiness and mockery like the boy had just done. They managed to keep their fights in the fights section of their couple; it had never overshadowed the other section; the one that represented their love. The two sections had never met, Louis had never hurt him intentionally.

 

Anyways, they weren't a couple anymore, and that conclusion brought another set of hiccups up his throat.

 

From his friend's hurtful and painful, his mind drifted somewhere else, and he went through his entire day, and he stopped at the moment they had lunch, earlier that day.

 

/ They were all sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria.

 

At that moment, the English man looked worried, his eyes shimmering and reflecting how frustrated he was to not be able to express himself perfectly.

 

_Articulate, Harry had then signed with an encouraging smile.

 

-Twilight, the last one of the saga. /

 

His already shut eyelids clenched with strength and he let out a scream of hopelessness, while his sobs doubled in intensity.

 

Louis, his Louis, had never agreed to watch a vampire movie with him. It had even turned into an inside joke between the two of them, the oldest always teasing him and accusing him to have terrible taste in movies.

 

Louis had never agreed to go watch one of these movies, not even to make him happy, not when he'd tilted his head, parted his lips and pleaded with his shiny eyes like he always did when he wanted something from his boyfriend.

 

So why did he go with that girl? That- he didn't know her name and it was perfect that way, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to know it, because it would only make her more real and he hated that. He hated feeling like he wasn't important to the man he loved, he hated not seeing him smile when he entered the room, or feeling his hands slide around his stomach from behind when he hugged him, placing a warm and loving kiss at the nape of his neck.

 

Louis, his Louis, was escaping him, was gliding away through his fingers like golden sand.

 

What did this girl have that he didn't? Why did he still not remember anything?

 

The endless questions kept playing in his head with no end, bringing back another series of hiccups that he couldn't control.

 

His phone, that was laying against his stomach, vibrated and he stretched to get it, noticing it was only a reminder to inform him he had received text messages. Five, one from Niall, and four from Louis.

 

All asking him where he was.

 

He didn't have the strength to read the last two ones when he noted how violent and agressive the boy was in those texts, and he locked his phone again.

 

A few minutes later, he felt fingertips brushing his hair softly, making him jump, and he turned around, his face tortured and drowned in tears that kept rolling down his reddened cheeks.

 

Louis hadn't moved his hand from his curls but Harry pushed him away, shaking his head and holding back a hiccup.

 

-Harry, I'm sorry, he articulated softly. I didn't mean it, I...

 

-Get out.

 

The sentence left the boy's humid and trembling lips in a whisper, interrupting the other man in the middle of his sentence. The voice was as broken as his face was, and all the pain you could read in his features was also perceptible in his tone; every gash, every cut, every scar, every sob he had held back. The words themselves didn't matter that much, his tone spoke for himself.

 

Louis, who had sat down on the bed, next to the shaking body, moved back as well, his face frozen. Surprise and guilt were readable on every inch of his face, even in his body.

 

But Harry's confused brain and eyes didn't see that, they were blinded by the salted tears that hadn't stopped. The memory of the words he had read on his friend's lips resonated in his head.

 

-Harry, I am-

 

-Get out, he repeated, a little louder.

 

-Harry, please-

 

-Get out!, he yelled this time, tears wetting his cheeks again as he watched the skinny and tiny figure step back towards the door. Once it was closed, he fell back down onto the covers, his chest hurting even more.

 

*

 

Louis hadn't left, he was still there. He had only closed the door and let himself fall on the floor, burying his head between his knees, damning himself. Harry had made him feel even more guilty than he already did.

 

He had asked him to leave; he had said it out loud, several times; he had talked. He had obviously proved him wrong.

 

Why was it so difficult? Why did he feel like he was doing everything wrong? Every move, every syllable that left his mouth felt wrong; so wrong.

 

He sighed loudly and pressed his ear against the wood discretely. The sobs were still there, breaking the quietness of the room like thunder broke the silence of the night.

 

After an hesitation, he walked away and headed back to his room, throwing himself on the bed, baking the mattress creak. He let his face get absorbed by the soft pillows and his right hand fell at the side of the bed, hanging lightly before hitting something hard.

 

A pained moan escaped his lip and he looked up, shooting a teary eyed look to the rigid object that was stuck under the mattress. An old book, with a damaged cover and binding, yellow pages and folded sheets, sixteen letters on the cover that formed the words « Wuthering Heights ».

 

Louis raised an eyebrow; seriously? He was reading that? He had always hated reading, and the classic pieces of litterature didn't appeal to him much either. Well, that was how it was four years ago, but apparently he now was reading Emily Brontë.

 

The pages turned quickly in his hands to open where a bookmark had been carefully placed. He noted mentally that he needed to buy a new one, because a folded sheet of white paper wasn't really attractive.

 

He read a few lines, avid to know if that knew side of his personality he had just discovered could remind him of something and give him another flashback.

 

However, that didn't seem the case because after a dozen boring pages, Louis gave up, picking up the folded piece of paper with which he was playing while reading.

 

When he tried sliding it back into the book, he noticed the outline of a handwriting. Intrigued, he unfolded the sheet to observe the words that had been written with black ink carefully. Finally, maybe his choice of bookmark was justified.

 

« Angel;

 

You can make fun of what I'm writing  here, but you're right, we never do enough stupid things in life. So here I am, me and my lovey-dovey words, and my stupid ideas; we're in the 21st century, and I'm writing you a love letter. Romantic, uh? Don't get used to it, though, you never know.

 

Look;

I'm writing this to remind you that no matter what we're going through, we'll get through it, always together, no matter what. I'm writing here what I tell you everyday but you still struggle to believe, I'm writing these words down so you realize how much I mean them.

 

Some things on this Earth are constant and unchangeable; no matter what goes on in the world, the sun will always rise in the East in the morning and sets in the West in the evening. Seasons will keep on happening; the winter will follow the fall before we could see the trees bloom in the spring, then summer will come. You can't stop the caterpillar from turning into a gorgeous butterfly and you can't stop children from doing stupid mistakes.

 

You agree with that, that won't ever change, right? Water wets and fire burns. Birds sing and bees fly.

 

Well, we're one of those things, Angel; we're one of those constant phenomena. Whatever happens tomorrow, the glaciers could melt entirely, the sky could crash down on Earth and there might be nothing left to it, we'll still be together.

 

One plus one doesn't make two; one plus one makes one.

 

You and me, we make one.

 

I always tell you I hate cliché stuff, but that's a lie. I love writing you these words and I'm smiling to myself just re-reading what I said. I know my sentences are far from perfect, they're far from being as beautiful as Shakespeare's, Auden or Tennyson, but I think they're like me.

 

They're imperfect, repetitive and amusing, but honestly, anyone who is free of sin can throw me the first stone.

 

I'm still here ; see? No one's perfect. But that's not important, because perfection is boring. You, you light up my world with your eyes and your smiles, your mood swings I keep complaining about and your stupid habit always to arrange everything in alphabetical order.

 

I love the pink tone that colours your cheeks when I mess with you, or the way you stick your tongue out when you focus. I love you entirely, I love everything about you; I love your past and your present; I love your story and your fears; I've been in love with you for two years already; I love you, Angel, and I know I've written it a dozen times already.

 

But I'll never get tired of it.

I love you.

 

-Louis. xx »

 

The signature made every single one of his limbs contract. All along, he'd thought he was the one the letter was written for; after all, it was in his book, wasn't it?

 

But he was the author, he was the one who had written those words.

 

So who was it written for? The doubts reappeared when he thought about Harry and Zayn's affirmation of him not dating anyone. He wouldn't write that kind of letter just for the sake of writing, right? Were they trying to hide something from him?

 

Did he have a girlfriend?

 

He closed his eyes; nothing made sens in his head, the words made him feel nauseous.

 

And, his mother would've told him about it, she wouldn't be a part of such a conspiracy; his mum wouldn't have been able to hide something this big, she wouldn't have lied about the love of his life.

 

He sighed, hitting himself internally for about the 218th time that day, because god, how could he be so stupid?

 

His eyes landed on the handwriting in front of him again, and the questions came back: who was this bloody letter written for? Couldn't he have written a name?

 

He closed the book, putting him on the night table, already feeling the beginning of a headache. That was what he got for trying tot think to much and remember: a headache. But still no answers.

 

He stood up and walked over to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and taking off his T-shirt to take a shower. His reflection in the mirror caught his attention before he got in and the revelation was immediate.

 

The answer was right in front of his yes; it was there and in a way, it scared the shit out of him.

 

Louis was looking at Harry's sketch from earlier that day.

 

Louis was looking at the 78 that he had drawn with just a pencil in his notes.

 

The drawing Harry had made and replicated perfectly was the tattoo on his left pectoral: a simple number 78.

 

Two simples words came to his mind in the few minutes that followed this revelation and, to be honest, he didn't know which one terrified him the most.

 

\- How?

 

How did he know he had a tattoo, how did he see it? How did he know the curves and the shadows of it so precisely?

 

-Why?

 

Why, even if he knew the answer to question n°1 was that had probably seen him shirtless a couple times; why had he sketched his tattoo today?


	16. Chapter Fourteen

**« Remorse makes you regret you opened your mouth. »**

 

***

 

Louis was laying on the bed, had been for hours- or at least that’s what it felt like; he was staring at the white ceiling without actually seeing it. His mind was empty, he wasn’t able to form a single cohesive thought and hadn’t moved once. He didn’t notice anything interesting, just a spot in the right left corner that looked a little creasy due to the humidity.

 

There wasn’t a single noise in the apartment: harry hadn’t left his room, probably still inside of it, and in a way, it made Louis crazy. It made him crazy to know he’d hurt his best friend, and he was letting him cry alone, his pillow swallowing the tears he should be wiping. Maybe he’d managed to fall asleep?

 

The screen of his phone showed two in the morning and he closed his eyes momentarily, knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep tonight. It was impossible; he was thinking too much, his thoughts crashing on top of each other in his head; always coming back to the same word, to the same name. Harry.

 

He clicked on the music icon so he could let his mind wander off somewhere else and a random song started playing, the first notes hitting his ears provocatively.

 

« You make me so upset sometimes

I feel like I could lose my mind... »

 

His body froze and he shivered.

Why was destiny against him? What had he done to deserve this, even his music player was lecturing him.

 

« Here’s my dilemma

One half of me wants ya »

 

What was this, in what universe was he? Was it all just a gigantic joke? Some kind of hidden camera prank or something like that? Was his life a reality show viewed by thousands of viewers just like Truman’s was? The Louis show?

 

The singer repeated her sentence and he swore mentally; it couldn’’t be true, but the lyrics reflected exactly what he was feeling; the managed to put words on the emotions he felt and couldn’t explain.

 

« And the other half wants to forget

My-my-my dilemma »

 

That part was true too, if only he could forget the English man’s perfect and angelic face, just for a few hours, a few minutes, a few seconds even. That face had been haunting his thoughts day and night, for weeks now.

 

His red cheeks that were all hot after he carried the groceries back into the apartment, his dimples carved in the middle of his cheeks when his white teeth aligned to form a perfectly drawn smile. His green eyes; his green eyes that shimmered and drove him crazy every time he saw them.

 

Louis closed his eyes; he was doing it again.

 

« From the moment I met ya

I just can’t get you out of my head »

 

Another truth; God was definitely against him, Satan had taken over his life because yes, from the moment he’d met him -or not quite, because he didn’t remember anything from those last four years- but since he woke up in that hospital, the mast of brown curls sprawled against his stomach, he just couldn’t get them out of his head.

 

« And I tell myself to run from you »

 

Oh yes, he just wanted to run away, he wanted to leave, far away from here. He wanted to get his memories back and stop worrying about his best friend so much. It wasn’t normal, he wasn’t normal, that was the only explanation that could solve his problem. He shouldn’t worry about him this much; get all shook up every time he saw another spark in his green eyes.

 

« But I find myself attracted to my dilemma »

 

We all have a dilemma in life, if you’re old or young, man or woman, poor or rich. Louis’ dilemma should have been his temporary amnesia, that was well enough for any twenty-one year old man.

 

« My dilemma, it’s you, it’s you »

 

But his dilemma was so much more complex and incomprehensible. His dilemma was a person, brown curls and a lanky silhouette. His dilemma was a nineteen year old boy. His dilemma was his best friend, Harry.

 

« Your eyes have told a thousand lies »

 

Those emerald green eyes that pierced through the gloom of Louis’ daily life; those eyes he could imagine without having to think about it or force himself.

 

The memory of the letter he had discovered earlier that evening immediately came back to his mind. The words were Louis’, he had written them for his girlfriend, so why were the boys constantly telling him he didn’t have one? Why were they lying? Why did Harry, his best friend, keep on telling him he wasn’t dating a girl, when all the evidence was there.

 

« But I believe them when they look in mine... »

 

And it was true. He believed anything that came out of the boy’s mouth, for the simple reason that any time he met his eyes, he drowned in them. Stupidly and lamely, giving up the battle after a few tries.

 

Please, make it stop. Make this song stop. He wanted to stop thinking about Harry; not confess this boy had so much influence on him!

 

« Your smile, your eyes »

 

Please. Make the singer stop, shut her mouth, so she could stop singing. Every word brought him back to a small detail, an aspect of the by who was crying himself to sleep two rooms away from him.

 

« The way you make me feel inside »

 

 

Stop.

 

Louis grabbed his cellphone before he totally lost his mind and threw it on the floor, the melody stopping with a thump. He sat down painfully and sighed, painting and trying to catch his breath. God, he hadn’t even realised he was holding it in.

 

His eyes closed but the lyrics didn’t leave his mind; so many things were going on and he couldn’t focus on just one.

 

There was Harry’s drawing that represented his tattoo; how did the boy know it so perfectly, the precise dimensions and why-

 

And why was this letter hidden in his book? Had he written it for his girlfriend? Why hadn’t he written a name in-

 

Harry. He had also hurt Harry, by saying things he didn’t even mean, and-

 

Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he left a note or replied to his-

 

Why hadn’t he given the letter to the girl who was supposed to be his-

 

How could he sorry in BSL, he needed to apologi-

 

The letter, he must have written for someone, right?

 

Harry had probably seen him shirtless before, if he was able to redraw every single curve of-

 

Stop.

 

But the letter and-

 

Stop.

 

He needed to check if his best friend was-

 

STOP.

 

He was about to smash his head against a wall if the voices in his head didn’t shut up right now. He couldn’t even form a full sentence. He was thinking in words; words and flashs of pictures were the only think he could comprehend without being interrupted by another flood of thoughts.

 

Letter. Harry. Tattoo. Wuthering Heights. Drawing. BSL. Dimensions. Sorry. Eyes. Book. Apologies. Word. Explanation. Again. Harry. Angel. Signs. 78.

 

*

 

It was past four in the morning when Louis finally managed to calm his nerves and his uneven breath. His hands had stopped shaking a few moments ago and his brain had taken a break, leaving him more peaceful than he had been in the last couple of days. It probably was a break down, some kind of black hole he was swirling into. Considering the fact that he hadn’t done anything to fix things; that couldn’t be it but right now, he didn’t care much; he felt at ease.

 

And even if he hadn’t fixed any of his problems, he had made a written list of all the things that went wrong in his life.

 

« 1. Bloody amnesia.

 

  1. Learn that fucking British Sign Language to communicate with Harry.



 

  1. Understand that goddamn letter and find out who it was written for.



 

  1. Understand why Harry had drawn his fucking tattoo.



 

  1. Apologise to harry for being mean.



 

  1. Find out where went. »



 

The piece of paper was laid on the white bedsheets on the round bed and was facing him, as if it was going to jump at his face any minute, threatening to swallow him whole.

 

He sighed heavily and played with his pen, looking at his clock again before getting up and started walking towards the door, not really paying attention to what he was doing, mostly guided by the fatigue.

 

He crossed the hallway quickly and the room that faced his; walking blindly until his knees hit the wooden board and felt the soft press of a mattress against his lower thighs. Turning around, he turned the bedside lamp on. Thé light was dim at first, but bright enough after a few seconds of warming up, allowing Louis to look at the asleep figure under the blankets.

 

Harry wasn’t wearing anything but his jeans, his t-shirt thrown in a ball in the corner of the room, and his face was buried in the pillows that were still wet with tears.

 

The oldest bit his lip immediately and let himself fall down onto the bed, remorse consuming his entire body. It was because of him if Harry had cried himself to sleep.

 

The lightbulb was now warm enough to light up the entire room, but it still hadn’t woken the boy up. He still hadn’t moved one inch, and Louis was now able to observe the black ink that decorated his best friend’s arms.

 

There were words, drawings, random numbers scribbled all over his pale and soft skin: a ship, a star, a lock, a heart, two hands, a skeleton.. His blue eyes stopped on the word that was graved on his biceps: « Hi ».

 

No matter how exhausted he was, Louis still thought he could vaguely recognise his handwriting and he was about to move closer to confirm his theory when the wooden floors creaked and the curly boy shifted, his movement making his friend jump, who let out a small scream before stepping back right away.

 

Harry’s eyelids fluttered open softy, not used to the bright lighting, and in the short moment when green met blue, Louis swore he wasn’t able to breathe anymore. He started breathing again when Harry blinked a few more times and he froze brutally when he realised it wasn’t a dream, Louis was actually there, in front of him.

 

He needed a moment to remember how to move and sat up carefully, not looking away from the older boy.

 

His eyes were red and swollen after having cried for so long and guilty took over the oldest’s feelings. He was the one who had cause those humid traces on his friend’s cheeks; it was because of him if Harry wasn’t okay.

 

Even if he wasn’t there with him when it happened, he knew it was because of him.

 

Harry’s tired and shimmering eyes didn’t want to leave his, and it was clear he wouldn’t be the first one to start a conversation; and why would he have said, even if he had? He wasn’t guilty of anything.

 

_ _Harry_ , signed Louis slowly.

 

The emerald irises immediately fell down on his hands and he looked at his movements, his teeth nagging into his bottom lip.

 

 __I’m sorry_.

 

The curly haired boy shook his head and avoided his gaze, not replying.

__No, I truly am sorry. I didn’t mean what I said._

__You meant it._

_-No, I didn’t! Harry, I said that because I was angry, I promise you, I didn’t mean it._

_-You would never have told me-_

 

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, because he knew he shouldn’t finish it. ‘You would never have told me that before, you wouldn’t even have thought about it! ». That was what he was about to say; but he couldn’t, because it would have brought another set of questions in his friend’s head and he just couldn’t answer all of them honestly.

__Get out, Louis,_ he just signed.

 

The oldest shook his head, surprised by the sudden change of mood.

 

_ _Sorry_?

 

Louis shrugged.

__Get out_.

 

-No.

 

He hadn’t signed, he had said it out loud, but he knew Harry had understood, because his eyes were locked on his lips. The latter’s vision was blurred for a moment and even though he was so sure he wasn’t able to anymore, he started crying again.

 

-Harry, murmured Louis again, feeling more and more guilty as the minutes went by.

 

The younger boy shook his head, running a hand across his cheeks, trying to hide how weak he felt.

 

_ _Get out, please._

__No, I want to apologise; I don’t-_

__You already did, get out now._

__No._

__Louis, get out, please._

__No, because you don’t believe me. I didn’t mean to say that, I swear; it left my mouth just like that._

__That’s the problem._

__What?_

__Whatever._

 

He sniffled and shook his head again, not wanting to let the conversation last too long, because he would then be tempted to say things he didn’t mean.

 

« The problem is that my Louis would never have something he didn’t mean. He would never have been this mean, even when he didn’t think what he said. My Louis would have never made me feel guilty to be disabled because he thought that was what made him unique. That’s the problem, Louis. You’re not.. You don’t.. »

 

Just thinking about the answer he wanted to give him made him tear up. He let out a heavy sigh, burying his head in his hands to try and hide the sobs that were threatening to leave his mouth.

 

_ _Harry, talk to me,_ Louis signed when he finally looked up.

__It’s five in the morning,_ the boy signed in return. _We have class tomorrow._

__And it’s quite obvious you have slept enough to wake up in a hour and a half._

 

Harry didn’t reply anything to his ironic words, so he closed his eyes, moving his hand to grab his friend’s, holding it strongly even when Harry tried to get away from him. When he found enough strength to open his eyes again, his eyes stopped at Harry’s torso, not daring to look up and meet his eyes.

 

The curly haired boy was slightly taken aback by the gesture but he couldn’t get himself to ruin the moment again, he had hoped for something like this to happen for way too long. Instead, he tried studying Louis’ behaviour and the reasons that had encouraged him to take his hand.

 

He still didn’t want to look at him, so he observed Harry’s stomach, where a butterfly laid, drawn with dark ink as precisely as the 78 number on his own torso.

 

-Louis.

 

The voice managed to bring him back to Earth instantly and he bit his lip, looking up slowly, meeting Harry’s sad eyes. He wasn’t crying anymore.

__I’m sorry_ , he tried signing again.

__It’s alright, it doesn’t matter._

 

And he really meant it; he couldn’t be angry at him anymore if Louis’ eyes showed so much distress and guilt. The smaller hand squeezed his and he smiled painfully.

__Went for a coffee with Lily_ , he then signed with just one hand.

 

_ _What?_

__You asked me where I was yesterday._

__You were with Lily?_

 

He simply nodded, trying to ignore the pain that was piercing right through his stomach.

 

__Oh. Did you impale yourselves?_

__Impale?,_ Harry repeated, raising an eyebrow.

 

It was his turn to frown, and he dropped Harry’s hand to grab his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He clicked on the screen a few times before handing him the device, open on the ‘Notes’ application.

**« Did you enjoy yourselves? »**

 

A weak smile appeared on Harry’s lips when he realised how clumsy Louis had been in his choice of words, but he decided not to pick on him for it.

__We just talked a little._

__Okay, Louis simply replied._

__Okay._

 

The room was filled with silence again, and the younger boy shifted in his bed, bringing his friend’s attention back on him. The latter noticed how exhausted Harry looked and shot a glance towards the door.

__I- I’m gonna go back to sleep, I..._

 

He stopped signing and bit his lip again.

__I came to apologise and I wanted to know if you were okay and- I’m gonna... I’m gonna go._

He stood up awkwardly but the boy grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn around. The oldest raised an eyebrow, making him understand he was listening to him;

 

__Would you want to-_

 

Harry stopped again and he shook his head; he was taking his dreams for reality; Louis would never agree to sleep in his bed tonight, it wasn’t even worth trying.

__Thank you_ , he signed instead.

__For what?_

__For coming._

__Oh._

 

And, after a few seconds:

 

__You’re welcome, Harry._

 

And with that, he smiled shyly and left , closing the door carefully behind him before heading back to his room. He could now cross out two things out of his list; but it still wasn’t enough.

 

  1. Apologise to Harry for being mean. -Check.



 

  1. Find out where he went. -Check.




	17. Chapter Fifteen

**« The past always ends up resurfacing, no matter how long it took us to forget about it.**

***

The next morning, Harry didn't wake up with the vibrations of his phone like he was used to, he was woken up by the smell of burnt toast. A very unpleasant smell of burnt toast.

He had turned his alarm off after Louis had left his room around 5:15am the same night, deciding he was too tired and snappy to get up one hour later and get to class. No one would be there to tell him anything, so he didn't care at all, to say the least.

What he found weird, though, was the fact that the effluvia of bread reached his room at ten in the morning: it was definitely too early to think about doing French toast on a Tuesday morning.

He had though would have gotten up to go to his morning classes, but he was apparently wrong; he was probably dead tired too.

A thin cloud of smoke slipped under his door and it took the curly haired boy a few seconds to realize a cloud of smoke was actually slipping under his door.

His eyes widened in surprise and he threw his blanket, jumping on his feet and heading towards the door as quickly as he could, slamming it open and not even caring about throwing on a shirt. His chest tightened when he inhaled the smoke and he started coughing.

He ran blindly to the kitchen, where he didn't see anyone, and he quickly opened the window and turned the stove on, turning the fire alarm off. He couldn't hear it, but he knew it was probably screeching by now.

Coughing again, his vision started clearing up as the fresh air entered the room, and he noticed the toaster on the worktop. It was what caused the accident, if he trusted the black and heavy smoke that came out of the engine.

He moved closer to it and unplugged it, his throat still burning. He took all the chunks of bread out and threw them in the trash, then grabbing a glass and filling in with water.

A surprised Louis entered the room right when he finished his class, wearing nothing but yoga pants, his wet and messy hair falling flatly onto his forehead.

-Oh my God, he murmured before signing;  _what happened here?_

Not feel like making any efforts, Harry pointed at what was left of the toaster, which was sticking out of the trash bag.

-Shit! Oh fuck, shit!, the oldest swore when he realized his mistake. I'm sorry!

Another coughing fit shook Harry's chest and he shook his head, stepping away from the fridge against which he was leaning. He was about to leave the kitchen when his friend grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop there.

-You're okay, right? I'm sorry.

He hadn't signed because he didn't want to let go of Harry's hand, thinking he might run away again,but Harry was already staring at his lips anyway.

-Harry?

One blink of an eye later, the boy's focus was back on his eyes, and he nodded softly before pulling away.

_ _I'm just gonna go take a shower; I'll teach you how to use a toaster after that, Louis. While I'm busy, don't touch anything._

A guilty smile spread on the man's face and he nodded, watching his friend leave towards the bathroom.

*

When the curly haired boy came back into the kitchen half an hour later, the smell of burning had been replaced by the sweet smell of raspberries.

Intrigued, Harry scanned the room and noticed Louis standing at the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. On the other side of the counter was a mug of tea.

A light smile crossed the youngest's face and he let himself fall onto the stool, looking up to meet Louis' apologetic gaze.

_ _Harry, I'm sorry about earlier_ , he started signing.

__It's alright._

_-No, it's.. I feel like I do everything-_

He stopped in the middle of his sentence and sighed, looking around him for the notepad, because he wasn't sure how to finish his sentence.

**« I feel like I do everything wrong. Yesterday, tod-»**

He didn't have the time to finish what he wanted to say because his friend snatched the notepad from his hands.

**« Stop, it's okay. I promise, I don't mind. And it won't be the last time you burn food. »**

**« I burnt bread! »**

**« Definitely not the first or last time. »**

An amused smile stretched the youngest's lips and he stared at the cup before him for a moment, playing with the tea bag before realizing it tasted like grapefruit and raspberries, one of his favourite flavors.

He looked up and his green eyes met Louis' blue ones, who was staring at him.

Embarrassed about getting caught, the oldest looked away quickly, a blush coloring his cheeks.

A few seconds passed before he found the courage to look up again, and when their eyes met, he made sure not to loose himself in Harry's eyes again.

__I added some..._

**« Some milk and sugar too. »,**  he wrote down quickly, because once again, he didn't know the right words.

Harry's eyes widened suddenly when he noticed that thing Louis apparently didn't remember.

_ _Harry_?

The concerned blinked.

_ _Sorry? Hm. Thanks._

__You're welcome._

The boy's focus went back to the blue mug between his hands and he turned the spoon mindlessly, mixing the honey with the hot water.

He wasn't sure if maybe Louis had seen him prepare his tea and that's how he knew how he liked it, or if he had remembered it unconsciously, the habit guiding his gestures before he could realize it.

In his turn, he dared looking up again, and noticed the familiar blue eyes were still staring at him, making him slightly uncomfortable. He quickly decided to grab the notebook and laid his pointer finger on the word « honey », showing it to Louis. The latter raised an eyebrow.

_ _Honey_ , he signed slowly.

_ _What_?

_ _Honey_ , he repeated, pointing at the word again.

_ _Oh! Honey?_

__Honey._

He smiled softly and pointed at the second word.

_ _Sugar._

__Sugar._

__That's it._

_*_

It was probably around 6pm and the sun was already starting to set towards the horizon when Harry stood up from the couch, wanting to warn Louis he was going out to buy pizzas. He didn't want to cook tonight and according to Louis' cooking experience this morning, he wouldn't be up to it either.

He headed to his best friend's room, knowing he would find him there and knocked weakly against the door before opening it slowly, not wanting to bother him.

The oldest was sprawled across the round bed, his head hanging from the side, and he was holding a book Harry immediately recognized as his. His blood froze in his hand petrified on the handle.

Louis, lowering the book when he heard him come in, smiled at him before sitting up.

_ _You alright, Harry?_

The letter.

That was all Harry could remember.

His bookmark was the letter Louis had written him eighteen months ago. The fucking letter that had made him cry all the tears in his body.

If Louis had found it, he would be done; he would probably; he'd probably start screaming and insulting him, or-

_ _Harry_?, Louis repeated, worried.

_ _That's... Where did you find my book?_

__Your book?_

Louis' eyes widened with surprise and he grabbed the copy of the book again. It couldn't be his book.

-It was in my room.

He hadn't signed, too shaken to move his hands. No, it couldn't be his book, it wasn't possible; the letter he had written to his girlfriend was inside, it couldn't be Harry's.

__It's; it is my book._

-I borrowed it so I could read it.

_ _Where did you find it_?

-Under the mattress.

__That's where I..._

His eyes widened again when he realized he'd almost messed up. He had almost betrayed himself by announcing to Louis that's where he hid all his books, and according to the older boy's face, he was already shocked enough.

_ _It's- could I get it back, please, Louis?_

-I started reading it, I'd like to finish it.

Fear and apprehension were readable in the man's face, who was wondering how the hell he'd manage to get his bookmark back without Harry noticing it.

If Harry hadn't told him he had a girlfriend, it was probably because he didn't know; and there was probably a reason for that.

Louis didn't want Harry to read this letter, that was it.

_ _I was busy reading it,_ he tried again.

Louis' fingers closed onto the cover again and he bit his lip, looking for an exit.

The boy's eyes were boring into his and it didn't look like he was going to move, but that only made everything more difficult.

But, fuck! Why didn't he want him to see it? Louis could get his bookmark without raising any suspicions, right? He could say it was just a piece of paper.

Biting his lip, he opened the book where he'd left it and took the letter, closing the book and handing it to its owner, not daring to look at him. His hands were shaking.

But the boy didn't move, didn't do anything to take the book, and when the blue met the dark green of Harry's eyes, he noticed how hurt he looked. Flames of pain were dancing in his pupils and you could easily tell something was torturing him.

And that because of his letter, Louis' letter, the one he had written him; he was holding it in his hand, and he had obviously read it.

_ _What is it?_ , he still asked, managing to act calm.

_ _A piece of paper. A bookmark. It's mine._

__What?_

-Holy shit, Harry, it's none of your business! What do you want? What are you doing here? What did you come here for?

Louis hadn't bothered to sign. Worry was filling his entire body an making him sweat. He hadn't mean to be this rude and snappy; he just wanted Harry to leave and stop asking all these questions he didn't have an answer to.

The concerned stepped back, his eyes misty.

-Harry...

_ _No, I got it. Keep the book, I wasn't reading it anyway._

And he left the room without adding anything more, crossing the living room and closing the front door behind him.

He hadn't told Louis where he was going but it didn't mater; he wasn't going back now. He needed a few minutes on his own to control the sobs that were threatening to leave his throat, making it hard to breathe.

He couldn't take it out of his head that Louis had seen the letter; he had found it in his book. What an idiot, how could he have forgotten his Wuthering Heights copy in their room?

« I'm writing these words down so you realize how much I mean them. »

Had he made the connection with the signs and his disability ? Did he understand that letter had been written for him?

« Your stupid habit to arrange everything in alphabetical order. »

That was something he had probably noticed while walking around the flat, from the shelves in the living room where all the movies were classed, to the spices in the kitchen. Even the books in the hallway were arranged from A to Z!

« I love you. - Louis. xx »

He knew he had written this letter, because he had signed it. How had he reacted when he realized he'd written that? Who did he think he wrote it for.

As he was going over the words and sentences in his head, remembering all of them as if he was reading it, he realized he knew it by heart. From the comma to the light ink stain in the top right corner, right next to the 'n' of 'Angel', he knew the letter by heart.

He crossed the street quickly and walked in the darkness for a little while before walking into a pizzeria, his eyes scanning the dark tiled floor.

*

Louis had heard the door being slammed and knew he was now alone in the flat. He was staring at the enveloppe, still in his hands, and replaced it between two pages, throwing the book in the corner of the room with a scream of rage.

His hands glided across his face and he closed his eyes, then let himself fall back onto the cushions. Why did everything feel so strange? Why did it feel like something didn't click?

He felt like a snowflake in a storm of dust; alone, frozen and left alone.

/ The door behind him opened suddenly and he turned over, even though he knew he was about to leave the library. He knew it because he was waiting for him. He had been waiting for him for hours, since he entered it earlier that afternoon.

The day had left already and the cold was making his entire body shiver, but he didn't care.

He didn't care because the mass of brown curls had just appeared and stopped as soon as he saw him, a few feet away.

 __I need to talk to you_ , the oldest signed, not bothering to say hi or be polite.

_ _Alright._

He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to a bench a bit further away. It was covered in snow. Only the lighting of the street lights allowed him to distinguish the other boy's facial features. He could see the emerald of his eyes, the straight line of his nose, his rosy cheekbones and all the tiny snowflakes that were falling onto them. A green beanie was resting on his curls and it somehow made him look younger, more joyful.

-Harry I-don't-know-what-your-middle-name-is Styles.

A faint smiled crossed the concerned's lips and he nodded, confirming all his attention was dedicated to Louis.

 __You're annoying_.

He was back to signing, not wanting to make the other boy tired by forcing him to keep reading on his lips; but all he received in return was a mask of incredulity.

But he was expecting it, so he shook his head, trying to find a way to express what he wanted to say.

_ _We can't be friends._

The emerald eyes he was staring at widened with surprised and lost all trace of happiness, his entire body freezing.

-Harry.

He hadn't signed, because he knew he already had his attention. Instead, he had taken the boy's hand in his, lacing their fingers together slowly, his fingers shaking a bit.

-From the start, Haz, we both knew it was something else; it couldn't be friendship, we couldn't have been friends. It was always more; even if it was terrifying to me. There's always been this connection, the shivers when you were there, and others when you weren't.

He stopped, letting some time for the other boy to process his words as he was saying them, his eyes still fixed on his lips.

-I wouldn't be able to say when, where, which moment or which words, he continued after a few seconds. I didn't even realize it when I fell in love with you.

These last words floated in the air for several long seconds. Harry had stopped moving, wasn't blinking anymore, and for a moment, the older boy was sure he had stopped breathing too.

It's only when Louis squeezed his hand that he seemed like he was able to move again, his eyelashes fluttering.

-Say something, he then murmured. It was so painful to be faced with this silence and lack of response.

But nothing came, even after a few more seconds.

-Edward, the youngest murmured, squeezing his friend's hand even harder and looking up so their eyes could meet.

It was Louis' turn to freeze. In all the months he had been friends with the tall boy, he had never heard the sound of his voice. He hadn't even thought he would ever get to hear it. But the word had just escaped his lips.

-Harry, you...

He stopped again and looked at him as if it was the first time, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

_ _Edward is my middle name_ , he signed softly, a tear rolling down his cheek.

A silence.

-Harry Edward Styles, Louis said softly, his voice breaking. I think I.../

The annoying sound of the doorbell shook him out of his thoughts, his eyelids opening as quickly as if he'd had a nightmare. He sat up on his elbows and slid a hand across his face, closing his eyes and sinking into the covers again.

Hell, the dreams about Harry were starting again.

He was about to let out a series of cuss words when the doorbell rang again, and it took him a moment to realize an actual person was waiting behind that door. He jumped on his feet, grabbing his phone on the way.

« To Liam: What's Harry's middle name? »

He jumped over the white sofa to open the door, sliding his cellphone into his back pocket quickly.

-Hello, Louis.

He looked up immediately, and froze. His breath hitched in his throat, the person in front of him occupying all his thoughts.

Oh yes; he remembered this person perfectly.


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**« There were no abnormal people when homosexuality was the norm. »**

***

/ A woman, about thirty years old, had just entered the living room; her black hair were cut short, falling onto her thin shoulders perfectly, and she was wearing an ivory cardigan with a pink blouse, her felt skirt reaching under her knees.

A man was next to her, temples graying and a few wrinkles at the corner of his lips; he had just closed the door behind him brutally. His arms were crossed against his torso, an annoyed expression coloring his facial features. He raised his hands to start signing, and at the same time, Louis, who was still sat on the couch, met his eyes. He immediately understood who Harry got his beautiful green eyes from.

_ _Hello, Harold._

 __My god_ , the concerned replied before biting his lip, shocked.  _What are you doing here?_

 __What a nice way to welcome your parents,_ exclaimed his mother, moving her arms as little as she could, making it harder to understand her.

The curly haired boy forced a smile, ignoring his friend's surprised look, who was still struggling to understand the situation happening in front of him. Harry had never agreed to talk about his parents, to anyone; he never mentioned them, didn't ever have any stories or memories to tell about them.

And there they were, right in front of him, in their living room.

_ _Harold_?

He didn't answer, instead locking eyes with his father.

_ _You're not introducing us? Who's your friend?_

The oldest's blood froze in his veins and he stopped moving, his fingers gripping the edge of the cushion he was holding. Harry had never told his parents who he was? What did that mean? Was he not important enough to him?

Turning over to look at his friend, Harry understood he had hurt him and bit his lip, begging him to forgive him with a pleading look, for what he hadn't done, and what he was about to say.

_ _What are you doing here?_

__You haven't answered my question._

__Why should I?_

Another blade dug int Louis' heart, who was now struggling to keep on breathing calmly.

_ _Harold, that's not a way to talk to your mother._

__Why? Why do you think you have the right to ask me these questions when I haven't heard from you in over two years? Not one fucking text!_

__Language!_

-Shit!, he yelled angrily, making everyone else in the room jump. Shit! And shit!

Tears of frustration were starting to well up in his eyes when he turned over to escape the room, he met the blue, shocked, hurt but worried eyes of his friend, who jumped on his feet, forgetting his own well-being to take him in his arms.

-Harry, he murmured against his ear, making him shiver.

-Harold, his mother repeated behind his back.

He hadn't heard her, obviously, but she didn't care; she was looking at the scene in front of her nastily, shooting daggers through her eyes at the man holding her son.

-Excuse me, started Louis with a soft but raspy voice, but I think it would be best for you to leave now. Harry is...

-Excuse me?, his father retorted with a strangled laugh. Who do you think you are?

The cold and sharp words triggered another set of shivers on the boy's skin, alerting the curly haired man who turned around to face his parents, his pupils still dilated by the tears he was holding back.

 __I want you to leave,_  he stated, signing quickly, moving a few inches away from Louis.

-No.

The word was short, sharp, cold and emotionless, escaping the man's mouth like a bullet.

_ _But what do you want; what are you doing here? Not once you bothered to ask how I was, if I was succeeding uni since you got rid of me. Why now?_

-We didn't get rid of you!, his mother exclaimed immediately, not bothering to sign.

Louis' eyes widened in surprise. His parents kicked him out?

_ _Oh, please, who are you lying to? We all know damn well I didn't' choose to go study at the other side of the country on my own!_

Louis' heart was beating extremely fast, he had known Harry for three years now, and in three years, he had never let a word slip about his past. But now, in not even fifteen minutes, everything was starting to make sense, and it was a lot to handle.

_ _We've heard things_ , his father finally signed, his expression still distant and grossed out.

_ _Good. Spill it out. What have you heard?_

Louis couldn't understand; how could his parents be this mean and bad to their son? How could anyone dislike this incredible, wonderful, gorgeous boy?

_ _Lydia told us she saw you when she was in London._

Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

_ _With someone._

__You came all the way up here just to know if I was seeing someone?_

And there it was: that was it; his parents just wanted to know if, in spite of his disability, he had been able to find someone weird enough to appreciate him for who he was.

_ _We were in town for something else, or else we would've called._

__Called? Wonderful._

__Call, as in using the phone_ , his mother tried.  _We couldn't have talked to you, because you-_

__Obviously._

__Are you going to answer the question_?, his father interrupted, annoyed.

_ _You haven't asked anything._

__Are you dating someone?_

And then, all of Louis' muscles froze and he stepped back, bumping against the couch, his face pale.

-Yes.

Once again, the word had slipped through the boy's pink and luscious lips, hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles above their two figures.

_ _And when were you going to introduce her to us?_

The boy frowned, not daring to look at his friend, because he knew he was probably hurt by him not telling his parents about their relationship. He also knew he was the main cause of his pain and he couldn't bear to look at his face and read all his emotions in the eyes of the man he loved.

_ _Why_?, he still signed for his parents.

_ _Excuse me?_

_ _And while we're at it; it's not 'her', but 'him'._

__Could you repeat that?_

__Of course. I'm not dating a girl, dad; I'm in love with a boy._

-A.. A boy?

__Yes._

__Stop messing with us, will you?_

A sentence that hurt Harry, because he understood they definitely didn't trust him, didn't even take him seriously. They were laughing at him when he had just announced something important, something that was a big part of his life.

Harry swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and looked down, keeping his eyes on the white tiles because finishing what he needed to say.

_ _Do you really want to know? I didn't fall in love with him right away, I first started to get to know him, to appreciate him, and then it became inevitable._

-Harold, you're not-

_ _You came here because you wanted an explanation, right? So listen to me; I'm sorry, because I know you're going to hate me even more now, but you asked, and here's my reply; I've been with him for three years now and-_

-Shut up!, his mother exclaimed suddenly, her body shaking all over.

The shout made everyone in the room jump.

 __I wasn't talking_ , Harry signed calmly, managing to hide his surprise.

_ _You're gay?_

His father was now the one signing. Louis wasn't moving, not even batting an eye, and he wasn't sure he was still breathing.

-Harold.

He didn't move.

_ _Answer the question._

__What do you want me to say, dad? I just told you I was in love with a boy, but no, of course I'm straight!_

-HAROLD!

He started screaming too, and the concerned winced, taking a step back, wanting to put some distance between him and his father. He hadn't heard his voice, but he could see the anger and the rage on his face.

His mother was paler than she was a few minutes ago, and she was staring at him blankly, as if he wasn't there, as if he was invisible to her.

-Of course you had to be gay, on top of being deaf, fucking hell.., his father muttered, hiding his mouth to make sure Harry couldn't read on his lips.

But he hadn't planned what was going to happen next; because Louis had heart it; he understood every single word, and he wasn't going to let that slip.

He stood up abruptly, and came between Harry and his parents, well decided to defend the green eyed boy next to him, who was a bit confused as to what was happening.

-Excuse me?, he exploded. Can you repeat that?

-We haven't been introduced, the man in front of him retorted. I don't think you know who I am.

-Of course I do, you're Harry's dad. Even though I'm not sure that's the appropriate term to use. What kind of father says stuff like that to their son? Behind his fucking back; at least have enough courage to tell him directly and see how he feels about it !

The man kept staring at him shamelessly. But Louis didn't stop there; no one could stop him now, he couldn't stand someone being this cruel to his best friend.

-What kind of mother, he continued, turning to her, disowns her son because he's deaf or homosexual? What kind of horrible parents are you, holy shit!?

The emerald eyes in front of him were shooting bullets but he didn't move one inch, insensitive to so much hate.

-You have an advantage I don't have, young man, the man stated, controlling the tone of his voice to keep it calm and controlled. You seem to know Harold and accept what he is, but it doesn't change the fact that I, don't know anything about you. Would you please be so kind to introduce yourself to me before starting to throw insults at my face?

-Of course, the man assured, feeling brave, shooting a quick look at Harry, who was hiding behind him. I'm Louis, Harry's bo-

Someone clearing their throat brought him back to reality, and when the man took sight of the woman in front of him, his hand froze on the handle. It was Harry's mother, her face tense and tired. What was she doing here?

He didn't have enough time to process the flash-back that had just shaken him, because her unpleasant and empty voice called him again, making him blink furiously to keep his mind in the right reality.

-Can I come in?

-It depends. Why did you come here?, he replied almost automatically, his voice snappy.

-I wanted to see Harold.

-He's not here.

-Can I wait for him?

-I don't know.

His cellphone vibrated in his back pocket and he raised a finger, signaling for the woman to wait.

« From Liam: I think it's Edward. Why? »  
His eyes widened.

-Louis, are you going to leave me at the door?.

His irises drifted from the screen to the face in front of him and he was done; all that was too much, he couldn't process a single thought.

-Sorry, was all he murmured before slamming the door in front of her face.

He then let himself slide to the floor, his back against the wood, and buried his face between his knees. Why were all these things happening at the same time? Why did he only have two stupid flashbacks this past months, but now, in just forty-eight hours, he had discovered things so big his mind couldn't follow.

He needed to sort everything in his head, choose what was true or false, understand what was a dream and what was real. But he didn't have enough strength for that, all he needed right now was his bed and sleeping pills; he couldn't handle this mess inside his head.

He stood up slowly, and dragged himself to his room, where he fell onto his bed lamely.

*

Louis' eyes fluttered open a few hours later, when he felt soft fingers brushing his hair away from his forehead, the fingers staying there a bit longer than they should. A groan escaped his lips and he rolled on his side, moving away from the stranger who had woken him up.

-Louis..., a soft and trembling voice murmured.

He opened his eyes wide and turned his head to look at Harry. He was sat on the edge of the bed and was looking at him timidly, biting his lip awkwardly.

_ _It's ten pm, Louis, I came home three hours ago but I waited because you were asleep and..._

He stopped his movements, not sure how to finish his sentence.

_ _I bought pizzas, they're in the kitchen._

-Oh.

Louis' eyes scanned the room and he remembered why he was sleeping: he hadn't been able to process his memories and the sudden arrival of Harry's mothe- holy shit, he had slammed the door in front of his best friend's mother!

But his uneasiness quickly faded away when he remembered his flash-back, reminding him of how mean and cold she had acted towards her own son when he had told them he was...

He had started to sit up but stopped in his tracks, his body freezing.

_ _Louis_?, the youngest signed, worried.

The concerned didn't move but looked up so their eyes could meet; and he noticed they were as green as the leaves during the spring, like emerald, they were shining so, so bright.

__Harry._

__Yes?_

-You're...

The oldest stopped again, unable to find the right words, because he never thought he would ever need to use them.

So he jumped out of his bed and sprung towards the kitchen, where he grabbed the notepad, not even looking at the table that had been set.

**« Harry. You're gay? »**

He read his sentence and slapped himself mentally for being so straightforward.

But, as much as he thought about it, he couldn't find an easy and nice way to ask the question. He handed the notepad to his friend with shaky hands and looked at his reaction discretely.

He wanted to know if the flashback he'd had was real or purely made up. Maybe he had made a fool out of himself by slamming the door in front of an innocent woman.

Was his best friend actually gay?

Why the hell hadn't he told him if that was the case? And his memory included a boyfriend; was Harry dating someone?

And why did that thought hurt him?

The curly boy's features tensed and all color left his face, leaving him livid and pale. Before he could even bat an eyelash, he had stopped breathing and his forehead was already sweating.

He looked up and his terrified eyes met Louis'.

 **« It's okay. »** , he wrote quickly, without really knowing why.  **« It's alright, Harry, it was just a question. »**

And he didn't know why he was writing this, because it was a lie; it wasn't alright.

He didn't understand the fact that a boy could love another boy; it was impossible, that wasn't how nature had made things. If God had wanted for it to be like that, he would have made Adam and Steve, not Adam and Eve. To have children, you need a man and a woman, not two men or two women.

Something was wrong, something wasn't right, he didn't understand that a man could not be attracted to a beautiful lady, but by a man.

He had always read, in papers, in political lectures, that you were homosexual by choice, not by nature. So Harry had chosen to love men.

But despite everything that just went through his head, he wasn't able to be angry at his friend or hate him like he would have done with anyone else.

Harry changed everything.

He didn't know if it was because of what he had gone through, all his weird wet dreams, or if it was just because it was Harry, and he could never hate this boy.

**« I remembered the day you told your parents. I had a flashback. »**

His friend stopped moving completely, encouraging him to write something more.

**« I just wanted to know if it was true. Harry, do something, move, shake your head, anything. »**

He blinked quickly, which was a big relief to Louis.

**« So my flashback was real? »**

Louis didn't want to push him to far or force him to confess, but they had been in the kitchen for over ten minutes now and his patience had limits.

Much to his surprise, Harry nodded softly, taking the notepad and the pen from his hands hesitatingly.

**« Sorry. »**

Louis frowned as soon as he read it and he felt a sharp blade in his chest, right above his left lung, straight into his heart. Harry was apologizing. Harry was apologizing because he was scared he'd offended him; did his opinion mean that much to him? Did he get angry the first time he had told him? Was it the reason he hadn't told him? Because he was scared of his reaction.

The uneasiness radiating from the youngest boy took him aback and Louis felt bad for making his friend so sad.

So he walked around the counter and took him in his arms, closing his arms behind his back. His hand moved up to Harry's neck, brushing against his curls and his friend shivered.

Harry only hugged him back after a few seconds, when he was sure it wasn't a dream and he wasn't the victim of some sick prank. Louis hadn't pushed him away; he hadn't left as if he was ill. Louis had made sure he knew it was okay, and he wasn't mad at him. Louis was hugging him.

And as if that wasn't enough, Louis thought he needed to add something else, deciding to let him know about another memory of his.

_ _I remembered something else, Harry Edward Styles,_  he signed mischievously, moving away from his friend just enough so he could move his hands between them.

Harry's eyes filled with tears. He was so relieved the love of his life hadn't pushed him away when he had found out he was gay; which was a funny term to use, because in his head, he wasn't attracted to anyone except for louislouislouis.

A smile appeared on the oldest's lips when he understood he had managed to lighten up his friend's mood.

His memories had slowly guided him, giving him new pieces of his pasts through messed up dreams and scary flashbacks.

He remembered how the boy liked his tea, his second name, the fact that he always drank water, but loved apple juice, or his favourite movie being « Never Forget ».

He sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relieved to know his mind wasn't entirely messed up and that some of his dreams were true.

That was maybe why he'd had wet dreams about Harry; maybe his mind was giving him clues to make him understand slowly- or abruptly, considering how rough these dreams were- that Harry wasn't straight.

He liked boys; holy shit, his best friend was gay.

They sat down a few minutes later, Harry glancing at Louis, who was taking the pizzas out of the microwave oven. He didn't understand why his best friend didn't get mad at him. He still could remember how harsh he was when they had first talked about it, during the first weeks of their friendship.

_ _When did you remember that?_ , the curly boy asked as soon as Louis came back to the table.

_ _When_ -

Louis stopped. He hadn't told him yet about his mother's surprise visit. Harry raised an eyebrow above his beautiful green eyes and Louis frowned.

__Your mum came to the flat while you were gone; that's how I got the flashback._

But Harry hadn't even paid attention to the end of his sentence, he had stopped after understanding the first part. He opened his eyes wide.

__My mum?_

__Yes._

__My mum?_

__She wanted to talk to you._

He needed another moment to take the thought in and his fork fell onto his plate with a sharp sound.

_ _What did you tell her_?, he finally signed, serious.

-Not a lot, actually, Louis replied orally, knowing Harry would read on his lips. I was overwhelmed by the memories and her reaction when you told her that... and it was a lot and...

-Louis.

-I slammed the door at her face.

And surprisingly enough, a childish laugh filled the room then, light notes breaking the grey atmosphere.

 __You're not mad at me?_ , he signed immediately.

_ _Actually, I would have been mad if you had invited her over for tea._

__Harry... Why are your parents-_

The boy shook his head, pushing his plate away so he could grab the notepad.

**« I don't want to talk about it, Lou. I'm just not the son they hoped I would be, that's all. Deaf and gay, could you imagine? »**

A disapproving look painted Louis' features and he replied calmly, letting the tip of the pen glide against the paper neatly.

**« I don't understand why they act like that. »**

Harry's white teeth dug into his lip when he read his friend's reply and he shrugged, pushing the notepad away, letting Louis know the conversation was over.

Then, he started playing with his slice of pizza, still not eating it.

Suddenly, he looked up to notice Louis' eyes were already on him.

__I- hm, I don't want the boys or Lil to know about my parents, so if you could..._

__I won't say anything._

__Thank you._

__And about your, hm, you being attracted to boys?_

A sad but amused smile crossed his face.

__Oh, they already know that._

-Okay.

As soon as his hands stopped moving, the doorbell rung, breaking the temporary silence and making the oldest jump.

_ _What's happening?_

__The doorbell just rung._

__Should I go see who it is?_

And before Louis could even reply or move, Harry had already jumped off his stool, almost running to open the door.

__Harry, his mother signed with a sigh of relief._

No letting him any time to even react, she pushed him softly and entered the flat and hugged her son.

During the first few seconds, the shock was so disturbing for the boy that he didn't even flinch, before finally realizing what was happening and taking a step  back.

Louis was watching from a distance, next to the couch, reminding him of where he was in his flashback.

_ _What are you doing here_?, Harry signed, his face closed.

__I..._

And that was the only sign she managed to do before bursting in tears.   
Taken aback, the boy turned to his friend, who seemed to be just as lost.  
None of them them how to react; one because he didn't know the woman in front of him, the other because he was so afraid of her.

And finally, his good heart forced him to move closer to the woman and take her back into his arms.  
Louis, perplex, stood up to close the door and headed to the kitchen, where he filled a glass with water for the woman.

*

After a couple minutes where she wasn't able to move away from her son, sniffling and staining Harry's shirt with her mascara, she finally sat up and signed a few words, so messily Louis struggled to understand them.

__Your father and I got into a fight, I have nowhere to go._

And without even mentioning anything, Harry understood at the same time as his best friend that his mother was only here because he was her last resort. She hadn't found anyone else to comfort her, so she came here.


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**« When you start looking for excuses, you're already in the wrong. »**

***

When Harry woke up the morning after, around six o'clock, his back immediately reminded him he had slept on the couch: the used cushions had making his back hurt.

He couldn't get himself to let his mother sleep on the couch and had offered her his « own » bed; or at least, the one he had been using since the accident.

She had cried for a few hours the previous evening, drenching her son's shirt until her eyes were dry. Not a word had left her lips since she had announced the bad news, and she had just turned into a ball of sadness, another set of hiccups shaking her as soon as Harry moved. Maybe she was scared he would leave her too.

Anyway, his alarm had just went off on the coffee table, waking him up a little harshly than what he was used to.

The curly haired boy muttered something, seriously considering not going to class, before remembering he hadn't gone the day before either, and his mum was still here.

And God knows how much he didn't want to see her; he still wasn't over her surprise visit, or the sudden hug she'd offered him.

Sitting up and stretching, he ran a hand through his brown curls, shifting them to the back while biting his lips, staring at nothing before finally standing up.

He expected to find the kitchen empty, considering how early it was, but the light was already on ans the blinds had been opened.

Louis was still sleeping in his room, but his mum was frantically opening all the drawers, a frown starting to form on her face as she did so. She turned her head when she heard her son come in and without even taking the time to greet him, she started signing:

__Don't you have a toaster?_

__Hello to you too._   
  
__Hello, Harold._

__Harry's fine too._

__If I had wanted to call you that, I would have given you that name instead._

The boy shrugged.

__Louis burnt it yesterday, you're a day too late._

-Oh.

She didn't add anything more and didn't comment on her behavior the day before. Her hair was done and she was wearing the same clothes; but she wasn't wearing any makeup.  
Harry walked around the counter to make himself a cup of tea and turned his back to her, not wanting to continue such a pointless conversation.

*

Louis entered the room fifteen minutes later, his eyes still sleepy and a yawn at the corner of his lips. He stopped in his tracks when he realized who the person in front of him was.  
But he didn't even have the time to turn over, Anne had just looked up from her cup of coffee and was smiling awkwardly at him.

-Hello, he greeted her as politely as he could, finally moving again.

He sat down in front of her and looked down at the hot chocolate that was already waiting for him.

-Harry went into the bathroom and he made this. But he already had tea, so I'm guessing it's for you, she felt like she needed to explain.

-Oh. Alright.

He grabbed the mug and looked up at the woman once more. He didn't comment on the awkward evening they had had, and he didn't think he was allowed to scold her, as much as he wanted to.  
He couldn't get it out of his head that she was only here because she needed a roof to sleep under, and considering that she didn't have anyone else, she had decided to come visit them, as her last resort.  
She hadn't asked how Harry was doing, hadn't smiled at him once; she had just asked for his attention and tenderness; two things she had never been able to give him.

And what, was she going to leave the same way?

-You and Harry, she interrupted his thoughts with her high and squeaky voice, you're still doing okay?

Surprised that she would start a conversation with him, Louis didn't reply anything at first; and it's only when she cleared her throat that he felt like he needed to answer.

-Yes.

Simple answer; he didn't want to go too deep into the details; he wasn't sure what the other wanted his mum to know.

-How long haas it been, now?

The question took him aback and he frowned.

-Err, four years, I think, he calculated out lout, trying to remember what Zayn had told him.

-And living together, wasn't it too... early?

He frowned again, not even bothering to hide his distress: he didn't understand the question. Too early for what? What was this woman talking about?

\- Excuse me?

-I mean, with your...

-Mum!, a trembling voice yelled, joined by Harry running into the kitchen, his hair still wet and messy.  
He walked by Louis hastily, now standing between him and his mother, allowing Louis to notice the tiny water drops that wet his white T-shirt.

_ _Harold_?, she signed, surprised and annoyed.

_ _Stop talking._

__Excuse me?_

The fact that Harry had his back turned to Louis didn't leave him enough sight to read their signs, and it was probably a good thing.

__Louis had an accident._

-Louis had an accident?, she repeated out loud.

Well, that was discrete.

-I..., Louis started, unable to finish his sentence, his lips parted and his breath stuck in his throat.

-How did it happen?

__Car accident._

\- Did something happen to you?

-Actually, I - hm, I don't remember..

 __Temporary amnesia_ , the curly hair signed, biting his tongue as he did so. He was trying to help his best friend out, because he looked like he wasn't able to form a full sentence anymore.

Anne's green eyes were boring into his, as if she was staring at a caged animal.

-I'm gonna go -um- take a shower, Louis murmured and stoop up, uncomfortable.

He crossed the room quickly, leaving his untouched food behind; and the locker of the bathroom door was soon heard.

_ _How much?_ , Anne attacked again as soon as he was gone, now focusing her eyes on her son.

She didn't have to explain precisely what she was asking, the boy had understood very clearly: « How much does he remember? »

_ _He doesn't remember anything_.

A spark flew through his mother's eyes, and she frowned, as if she was thinking about a detail that couldn't possibly be left behind.

__He doesn't remember-_

__No!_ , Harry cut her off, looking up with teary eyes.  _No, he doesn't remember me or the fact that we were together. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?_

She didn't reply, but in a way, the boy knew her well enough to understand that, yes, she was happy and satisfied with this news.

_ _Please, stop asking him questions; it's over! You'd only manage to make things worse. We didn't need your help or dad's; I've always taken care of myself on my own, so it's only my fault if I messed up my relationship._

__Did you break up with him?_

__No._

__Did he do it?_ , she asked again, and for half a second, Harry could swear he saw compassion in her eyes.

__No, he didn't either._

__So how-_

__He didn't remember me, so I just left that detail out, because before he knew me, Louis didn't like boys, he was.. Homophobic, in a way. And I didn't want him to hate me, so I told him I was his friend._

She simply nodded, and Harry wondered why she was asking him all these questions. Why did she care? She had just proved him that once again, she hadn't actually listened to what he had to say.

__You don't even care, am I right?_

She frowned, offended.

__Of course I do!_

__Oh mum, who are you fooling? There's only me and you here! Just tell me that was all you had been waiting for since I announced I was dating Lou a year ago! At least have enough courage to tell me! Tell me it's what I deserve; that God has punished me by making me deaf because he had Seen I'd become gay!_

-Harold!

__I know why you're here, you tried making the pill easier to swallow with your hugs and embraces; but I understood you came here only because you didn't have any other choice._

__That's not-_

__You're not gonna save your conscience by lying to me, mum; you lost it the day you kicked me out with nothing but a suitcase and an admission letter to Seven Kings for the rest of my schooling._

She didn't add anything. What would she say anyway?

_ _Your son is on his own again, you can run and tell it to the priest if you want; he may damn my soul as he pleases; but I'm not going to become « normal » again just to please you. I still love Louis, mum;_

Her knuckles had turned white because of how hard she was gripping the counter and her teeth were clench, the only proof that she was about to implode.

 __I have to go to uni,_  Harry finished, stepping back.  _I'm not going to ask you to leave; no matter hat happened, you're still my mum and I can't get myself to leave you on the streets._

*

Louis was calmly putting his notebook in his locker when he felt someone stop near him, making him stop what he was doing as well. He knew Harry was waiting for him with their friends in the cafeteria; they had agreed on that when Louis had told him he needed to put his things in his locker before having lunch.  
Lily was the one who had made him jump, and she was once again wearing a red beanie, which he recognized as being Harry's; and that only made him more annoyed.

-Remind me to buy you your own beanie for your birthday, he mumbled, forcing a small and fake smile onto his lips.

-I like Harry's., she replied mischievously, not even taking offence at the way he talked to her.

-Yeah, whatever. Aren't you going to eat with the others?

-No, I wanted to see you: about Harry, actually.

The boy raised a curious eyebrow and closed his locker, turning around to look at Lily properly.

-I feel like he's; I don't know, acting weird, he has been since this morning, did something happen?

Aside from his mother's surprise visit? Oh no, nothing.

-No, I don't think so, he lied easily.

The curly haired boy had asked him the day before not to say anything, so he wasn't going to; he wanted to respect his friend's secrets. It wasn't his place to tell everyone why he never talked about his parents; and it wasn't his place to explain that they actually hated him.  
They hated his disability, they hated his sexual orientation. They hated anything that made Harry Harry, and just thinking about it, Louis' fists clenched brutally.   
He didn't want to talk about it anyway, especially not to Lily; because there was something between the both of them, some kind of silent pact that linked them together, and that made him feel like he was bit more important to Harry than she was.

-Are you sure?

Maybe he could talk about a small detail.

-Well, I remembered something yesterday. I remembered that he liked -errr- men. So, that kind of, hm, upset me, maybe? And I.. Well, it was awkward, so maybe he's still thinking about that?

He had talked quickly, hesitating and stumbling over each word, which only made his sentence more confusing.  
The girl's blue eyes widened suddenly, and she blinked a few times, obviously shocked.

-Oh my god, she murmured;

The boy's stomach flipped immediately and he felt like he was going to throw up, because maybe Lily didn't know about that.

\- What? You didn't- holy shit, he'd told me that you-

-Louis! I knew about that! Calm down, of course I knew. We all do, don't worry. I was just, hm, surprised? That you had taken it so we'll? Well I think; you seem like you're okay with it and...

-It's okay, he assured, nodding.

And it really was, he thought.

*

The end of the day went by easily and when Harry entered the lecture hall for his last class, Louis following him closely, he couldn't help but think about his mum: he hadn't had any news from her since they'd left in the morning, and he wasn't sure if she had decided to live permanently in their living room or if she had left as quickly as she'd arrived, without a goodbye.  
He sat down in one of the highest rows and saw in the corner of his eye that his best friend had followed him, letting himself fall down on the chair right next to his.

_Is your mum going to stay?, he asked a few seconds later, catching the other boy's attention.

_I don't know.

Louis shook his head, searching in his bad to finally pull a piece of paper out of it. He started scrawling something quickly.

**« Maybe it's not my place to judge, because I don't know the full story and obviously, I don't remember a lot of things, but I think you're being too nice, Harry. »**

The boy hid a smile, because it probably wasn't the right time to joke; but that was exactly what Louis would have said before the accident.

**« I mean; she literally kicked you out when you were thirteen! »**

**« And I would have preferred that she didn't. So I'm not going to; because I know what it feels like. »**

Louis mumbled something incomprehensible and shook his head.

 **« You're definitely too nice, Harold. »,**  he wrote down, making a dimpled smile appear on Harry's cheeks. He then closed the pen and finally started paying attention to the teacher who had just entered the room.

*

-Hello everyone, he greeted them. Before anyone asks me; yes, I have corrected your essays.

Noise started filling the room, some students cheered, others let out satisfied sounds: it had taken him over three weeks to correct everything.

« Using the skills you have learnt to master throughout the semester, you are going to write a song about your feelings in the style of the 21st century compositors.

Harry hadn't spent more than five hours on that essay; and Louis was certain he had failed it, due to his amnesia and how he struggled to pass and understand his courses.

-However, before handing them back to you, I would like for you all to read a copy that I particularly liked. I photocopied it for you and- there you go, make sure everyone has one- I am also going to project it onto the big screen so- there-, you can all understand me.

_ _What's going on?_ , asked Harry, signing.

He usually liked to sit at the front, in the first few rows and right in front of the teacher, so he could read on their lips and understand the class. But today, he couldn't get himself to think about anything else that his mother, and he'd felt like isolating himself would be best, because he wouldn't have been able to pay attention anyways.

_ _He's going to hand back the copies and-_

But Louis didn't have the time to finish signing that the other boy's hand grabbed his quickly, squeezing it like his life depended on it. His blue eyes looked up to notice his friend's were looking at the wall in front of them intensely.

-Louis... his weak and trembling voice murmured.

__Harry? Are you alright? Are you feeling-_

__Why is my paper projected for everyone to see?_

The oldest's eyes widened his surprise, and he looked at the projection.  
He immediately recognized his best friend's fine and beautiful handwriting.

-Louis, Harry then repeated, reminding him that he needed an answer.

_ _The, um, the teacher thought your song was interesting?_

__He's not allowed to do that!_

__Your name isn't shown, no one will know it's yours!_

__But you do._

__Because you told m-_

But the younger boy had already grabbed his stuff and had left quickly, not even catching anyone's attention. A ghost wouldn't have been quieter.

Louis didn't understand, why was it so wrong that his essay was shown? Why wasn't he supposed to know it was Harry's?

He was about to stand up to follow his friend when the teacher's voice was heard again, catching his attention from the first word.

-« Now that you're standing there right in front of me, I hold on, it's getting harder to breathe. »

He hadn't sung the lyrics, he had just read them; but without even trying to put some emotion into Harry's words, all 350 students were quiet and listening to him.

-We can already note that this person has chosen as theme « the other », and I have to admit I was surprised to see not a lot of you have chosen it. Anyway, I was saying the first verse is written in two parts very distinct fro each other: the first one describes the addressee of these lyrics.

He paused, only to notice everyone was calmly listening to him.

-« All of a sudden these lights are blinding me, I never noticed how bright they would be. ». And the second one describes the atmosphere. Or at least, that's what we could think at first, but if we dig a little further, we can see there's a metaphor with...

The flow of his words continued but Louis didn't care about the explanation; he wanted to know the rest of the song. He wanted to know what Harry had written; he wanted to know if this song showed was he truly thought or it it was just letters, a succession of sentences that were worth an A+. The pile of copies finally reaching his row, he quickly grabbed a copy and sat down. His eyes scanned the lines hastily, his irises drinking the words.

« I promised one day that I'd bring you back a star  
I caught one and it burned a hole in my hand. »

Louis had always hated lovey-dovey songs; and this one was one, wasn't it? But, once again, for some unknown reason, the statistics were wrong, everything was getting mixed up and the song seemed perfect to him; how the sentence were made, the choice of every noun, every verb, every adjective, the teacher was right, she was more than worth being projected in front of everyone.

« Seems like these days I watch you from afar  
Just trying to make you understand  
I'll keep my eyes wide open. »

If these lyrics truly showed was the boy was thinking; what was he waiting for? Who was he waiting for? Wasn't a song supposed to help the person who listened to it understand the author? Or maybe Louis just thought too much. Harry had probably written that song hoping to get a good grade. But why would he have left, if that was the case? Shyness?

Yes, that was probably it. Shyness and shame.

« Don't let me   
Don't let me go  
'Cause I'm tired of sleeping alone. »

Or maybe it was all real and Harry was addressing this message to someone.

The boy's heart clenched when he thought the fact that maybe Harry was in love. He didn't know why, though; he didn't love his best friends; or at least, not it that way, so he didn't have a reason to be jealous, did he? No, he didn't. Strictly no reason.

His own reasoning was making him feel tired and he sighed, closing his eyes and damning himself.

As he was burying his head in his arms to hide from the headache that he was starting to feel, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he took it out quickly. He was hoping it was Harry. Harry, who would have told him he was waiting for him next to his car so they could go home together, and that he had left the room because he wasn't feeling well.   
That could have solved all his problems.  
But no; the text wasn't even from Harry.

« From Eleanor: Louis! It's been a while! I was wondering if you'd like to go watch a movie or go to the restaurant tomorrow? I wanted to go out and you're the first one I thought about. xxx »

A sour laugh crossed his lips, which gave him a few curious looks from other students but he didn't mind. Now wasn't the time.

« To Eleanor: I can't right now; we'll do that another time. Sorry El, I've got a few things to sort out and they can't wait. X »

*

It's Niall who took him back to his flat at the end of the class, because obviously, the parking spot where Harry had parked his Range Rover was now empty.

Louis wasn't even surprised, he was expecting it, and he turned to his Irish friend with a defeated smile.

-What happened?, he asked, motioning for Louis to follow him.

-The teacher showed Harry's paper on the board.

-And?

The oldest shrugged and sat down in his friend's car and took out his copy of the song.

-There, have a look.

Niall's blue eyes scanned the lyrics quickly and he bit his lips, blinking quickly to hide the tears that were starting to fill his eyes.

-Ni?

-I'm alright, he smiled, handing the sheet back to him before looking away quickly, starting the car.

-You sure?

-It's a very beautiful song, he answered.

-I know.

Silence filled the car, and after a few minutes, Louis broke it.

-Do you think it's genuine?

-What?

-The lyrics.

-Of his song?

-Yes.

-I don't know.

It was a lie; Niall had lied.

Of course he knew; of course they lyrics were genuine, because they described exactly what the curly haired boy was feeling. The addressee of this song was sat right next to him; but he couldn't tell him that.

-The song is beautiful, Louis repeated again when Niall was parking his car.

-I think so too.

-Is something wrong, Niall?

A sad smile lit the boy's face.

-Everything's fine.

And he lied so innocently and with so much conviction that the other man didn't insist, and just nodded before opening the door.

-See you tomorrow, then?

-Hug Haz from me, please. See you tomorrow, Lou.

And when he started his car again, watching his friend walk away, the boy closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Why did things have to be so complicated?

Why weren't things going back to normal? Niall was done with seeing his friends hurt each other, consciously or not.

He was done with having to see Harry hurt by Louis' mistakes; and he was one with seeing Louis so uncertain in front of Harry's silences.

It was a sort of vicious circle, an eternal recommencement in which one got hurt because the other was hurt, and took everything silently.

In the end, they couldn't start over, but Louis remembering would be like a fresh start, right? Life is an eternal recommencement where admitting defeat means the end of everything; but as long as they kept hurting each other, didn't it mena they were willing to fight?

Fight to remember.

*

It's with no surprise that Louis saw Anne sat on their couch, watching a stupid love show on the TV. The sofa's had been moved and a bouquet of red flowers was standing on the table.

-A floral and feminine touch never hurt anyone, she answered when she saw his raised eyebrow. Harry isn't with you?

-He hasn't come home?, Louis froze.

-No. Why isn't he with you?

-He left early.

-He skipped class?!, she replied, outraged, and paused her series to turn around and look at Louis sternly.

Louis didn't answer, instead taking his cellphone out of his pocket to text Harry.

-I can't believe it, Anne continued, standing up abruptly. He skipped? We pay his university fees and he thinks he has the right to-

-Shut up!, Louis exploded, yelling. Shut up, now!

His headache had become unbearable since she had started talking and her nasal voice didn't make things better. He wanted silence. The woman froze and she stopped breathing, clearly taken aback.

-Excuse me?

-I'm asking you to stop talking, he repeated calmly and closed his eyes.

-But who do you think you-

-Your voice is unnerving, Anne! Stop talking about Harry like that, as if he wasn't worth anything! Shut up!

She took a step back and swallowed, surprised that a twenty-one year old could talk to her like that.

-Harry didn't skip class, he then lied, finally able to control his emotions. He left early because I have a class extra.

And when he was about to turn around and head to his room, his phone vibrated in his hand.

« From Harry: I don't want to cook, would you like pizzas? An Indian without pineapple and extra cheese? »  
« To Harry: An Indian without pineapple and extra cheese. »

He bit his tongue immediately and glanced over his screen to where Anna was standing, still frozen. He needed to warn Harry.

« To Harry: Your mum is still there. »

-Your son went shopping, he announced. I hope you like pizza, because that's what's on the menu tonight.

And with that, he turned around and locked himself in his room, throwing himself on the round bed. It had started raining outside, the wind making the shutters slam against the windows. A vibration under his stomach made him jump.

« From Harry: I know. »

*

When the youngest boy arrived, about forty minutes later, he was drenched from head to toe but had luckily managed to keep the pizza boxes dry by covering them with his jacket. His mum still hadn't sat down; she was standing in front of the window, her phone glued to her ear.

Harry headed straight to the kitchen and put the food down on the counter, holding back a shiver; then went to his room to change into comfier and drier clothes.

When he came back, Louis was setting up the table; three white boards had been neatly put on the counter.

_ _Hey, are you okay_?, he asked when he heard his friend come in.

_ _I'm good. Sorry, I should've waited for you and-_

 __It's alright,_  the boy assured him with a smile.

And it really was alright; he was done trying to understand the other boy's actions and mood swings. He was done being angry every time Harry ignored him. It was Harry, he was going to have to get used to all that.

But that meant he had given up the first fight; the one where he needed to keep holding on, to keep trying to understand his best friend.

So he didn't ask any questions about his song, his escape earlier that afternoon or where he went; he didn't ask any questions about his red eyes or the fact that he didn't want to sleep alone.

He stayed quiet and smiled.

*

Around midnight, the thin rain had turned into a storm and you could hear the first echoes of thunder hitting the ground, making them closer and more real than they were before.

Louis was hiding in the depths of his blanket to soften the horrible sounds that kept on getting closer. He had been awake since eleven o'clock; he had been turning around in his bed ever since. He was trying to hold back shivers, trying to tell himself he was safe, because he was inside and not on his own: Anne was sleeping in her son's room and Harry was once again sleeping on the couch.

And just like every time he thought about the other boy, his mind lost itself, forgetting all the promises he had made not to try and understand him. Anyways, when it came to Harry, his reactions were unexplainable : sometimes he left, sometimes he tried to understand. He usually tried to push him away only to get him closer later.

Harry didn't hear the storm, didn't hear the deafening sound of thunder breaking through the atmosphere, didn't hear the shock caused by this flash of light.

VLAAMM!

A distressed sound escaped his lips, because it was the first big one, and Louis grabbed his teddy bear. He clutched it close to his heart and let a few tears of panic roll against his cheeks. Why was he so scared of storms?

VLAAMM !

Another whine shook him while and he remembered. He remembered the last storm, when he had gone to Harry's room to get some comfort. He remembered how the boy had let him cuddle him, how his arms had wrapped around his back and how-

Shit!, Louis thought, holding back another set of shivers. That was exactly why he couldn't go back to Harry this time.

Last time, sleeping with Harry made him have wet dreams about his friend, and that couldn't ever happen again. What was wrong with him?

VLAAMM !

All his previous reasonings disappeared as the thunder struck near their apartment, and he started crying, damning himself for being so childish.

Harry.

The name appeared in his mind as quick as lightning in the sky. Harry had written a song where light blinded him; was he talking about lightning?

« All of a sudden these lights are blinding me,  
I never noticed how bright they would be. »

He had written a song where he confirmed that he was waiting for someone; he was ready to hold them in his arms any time.

« I'll keep my eyes wide open  
I'll keep my arms wide open. »

He didn't know who that person was; and it definitely wasn't him; but for now, it was comforting. He didn't know why, but he felt more at ease.

He wouldn't reject him. If he hadn't done it the first time, he wouldn't now, right?  
Harry was too kind to tell him to go back to his room when he's shivering with fear; that was certain.  
Harry definitely was too kind to push him away, and he was too scared to think about another solution than running into his best friend's arms.

« I'm tired of sleeping alone. »

The last sentence of the lyrics came back into his mind as another crack broke the quietness in the room, making him jump out of the bed.

Harry didn't want to sleep alone, he had written it in his song, and right now, Louis was sure he meant everything he wrote. Or at least, the excuse was good enough to be brought up the next morning; that, and his terrible fear of storms.  
The coldness in the room took him aback when he stood up, so he quickly walked to the door to try and switch the light on.  
The fuses had blown: no more electricity, no more light and no more heating.

It was even colder outside of his room and Louis walked to the living room, feeling his way along. The hallway was suddenly lit by a flash of light and his entire body froze. He brought his fist to his mouth to cover his scream when he heard the thunder groan, shaking the floor lightly.  
Harry was curled up under a thin blanket, his eyes closed and his teeth chattering. The eating had stopped working and it was almost freezing.  
When Louis looked out the window, he noted that their building was the only one out of power, because, obviously.   
And it crossed his mind quickly, there was his third excuse to wake Harry up: the power failure was going to get him sick, he was cold and didn't have a good blanket.

Approaching softly, he murmured his name once before realizing his mistake and feeling terribly stupid: he couldn't hear him.  
Instead, he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder who opened his eyes immediately; he wasn't sleeping and it wasn't surprising. He was worryingly cold.

_ _Harry_ , he signed quickly.  _Are you..._

He stopped; he thought about everything but the way he was going to talk to his friend.

_ _Are you okay?_ , he signed lamely, sighing.

The boy nodded, still a bit disoriented by his friend's night visit.

Then, lightning lit the room again, shortly, but it was enough for Harry to see the terror in Louis' eyes.  
And Harry understood that thunder was striking, even though he couldn't hear it.  
He moved and sat down so his friend could lay next to him, but the latter didn't move, still staring at his friend and biting his lip.

_ _Come with me?,_  he finally asked.

First surprised, Harry raised an eyebrow.

_ _Where?_

__Where do you think, idiot?_

__Louis, are you feeling o-_

__In the room, Harry!_

At that moment, thunder broke the silence again and Louis' features clenched with fear. That's all it took for Harry to stand up and take him in his arms, feeling his friend squeeze him even harder.

-Okay, he simply nodded into Louis' ear, confirming that he understood and was okay with taking care of him.

-Okay, Louis replied softly.


	20. Chapter Eighteen

**« There's no action without will. »**

***

It's emptiness that woke Louis up the next morning.

He didn't open his eyes because of the vibrations of his cellphone on the bedside table; but because the warmth that surrounded him had changed: it wasn't the one emanating from his best friend's body but the one offered by the sun through the window.

He didn't need to move to notice it; he knew Harry was gone from the moment he opened his eyes.

Louis turned over, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into his best friend's pillow, unintentionally breathing in the liquorice smell of his shampoo, that still stained the bedsheets.

Before he could let out a sigh of relief, his mind finally caught up to him, and he mentally slapped himself for what he was doing: he was trying to breathe in as much of Harry as he could.

That sole thought was enough to wake him up entirely and he sat up quickly, looking around the room with apprehension, even though he knew he was alone.

-Fuck, he muttered, letting himself fall back onto the mattress. Fuck everything.

Nothing good ever happens after midnight: this was the proof. His feelings and his fear had guided his actions and he had seeked comfort by Harry, something he had promised himself he'd never do again.

He had given up because he was terrified, and he should hate himself for it;  but curiously, he didn't regret it. He didn't regret asking Harry to follow him in his room the night before to reassure him during the storm. He didn't regret falling asleep, because he had felt safe between Harry's strong arms. He didn't regret having followed his friend's breaths to slow down the beating of his heart.

And that was scary: he didn't regret anything.

Running his hands on his face and sighing heavily, he sat up straight on his elbow and turned his head to his alarm clock, that showed 7:22am. Harry was probably in the bathroom already; so he could get up without fearing to cross his path; not now, everything was still too fresh and usure in his mind.

But when he entered the kitchen, the younger boy was already there, stood in front of the sink with his back turned to him, probably busy doing the dishes. His mother was nowhere to be seen and that reassured Louis a bit, he wouldn't have to put up with her judgemental looks.

Biting his lips because of the awkward situation he was in, Louis took a first step but stopped again, unsure whether he should tap his shoulder or move into his field of vision to let him know he was up.

But he didn't have to think about that any longer because Harry soon closed the faucet and turned around , wanting to grab a cloth to dry his hands. When he noticed the other man stood behind him, he jumped, closing his eyes and letting a weak smile from onto his lips.

_ _You scared me_ , he admitted and opened his eyes, amused.

_ _Sorry. Are you okay?_

__Yes. Slept well?_

The malicious face he now wore made a blush creep onto Louis' cheeks, and he muttered something incomprehensible before opening the fridge to get some milk.

*

Lily joined them in the cafeteria that afternoon, a satisfied smile stuck to her lips.

-Have you heard the announcement this morning?, she asked while sitting down in front Liam, setting down her tray on the table.

She gently swatted Niall's hand away, who was about to steal a fry from her.

-No?

It's Liam who had spoken; Louis being too busy fighting with his vegetables and Zayn was looking for his knife. Harry was following the conversation on their lips but didn't see the point in intervening because he didn't know what Lily was talking about either.

-There are no lectures tomorrow, it's Speaker Day!

-Huh?

-Not again, the Irish man muttered, closing his eyes.

-Did I miss something?, added Zayn, raising an eyebrow. Wasn't it supposed to happen in two weeks from now?

\- They moved it; the spokesperson who was supposed to come had an unforeseen difficulty, so it's happening tomorrow.

_ _What time is it happening_?, Harry signed, grabbing his slice of strawberry pie.

__We have to be in the gymnasium at 7:35am._

-That's too early; I won't be able to get up.

Louis pushed his plate to the corner of his tray and let out a frustrated sigh at the mere thought of having to set his alarm forty minutes earlier than usual.

-Do you wanna sleep here?, Liam offered, giving his knife to Zayn, who was starting to loose patience.

-Here?

Liam, Niall and Zayn had been sharing a room on the campus since the beginning of their schooling in this university, which explained how fast they had become so close.

-We'll make room ? Well, I think I have a couple of mattresses in a cupboard. And it would be fun, right? And you could get up later, we'd just have to cross the football pitch.

Harry glanced at his friend, who simply shrugged, confirming he actually wasn't against the idea of winning a few dozen minutes of sleep.

Then again, that way, Louis wouldn't have to cross Harry's mum's path, who apparently wasn't ready to leave yet. She had now started buying bouquets to decorate the entire flat.

_ _Yeah, it would be fun_ , Harry smiled and nodded. Lil, are you coming with?

The oldest's muscles froze immediately; why did she have to come too? Didn't she have friends or a boyfriend she could spend the evening with?

_ _Of course; Jason wanted to go to the movies with his brother anyway, so I'm free!_

Obviously; bloody Jason couldn't have chosen another week day to leave his girlfriend alone? No, it had to be on Tuesday evening, the evening where they-

-Louis?, Liam called him softly, shaking his hand in front of Louis' face.

-Huh?

-Are you alright?

-Peachy, he lied, unclenching his fists under the table and massaging his sore knuckles, avoiding any sort of eye contact with his friends. It was obvious they had all noticed how tense he was, but none how them bothered to comment on it.

-We'll order pizzas?, Niall asked to calm the atmosphere.

_ _Ugh, we had some yesterday..._

__Chinese?_

-I love Chinese!

*

It was half seven when Harry and Louis came back on the campus after going home to get some extra clothes and their stuff for the following day. They hadn't seen Anne, but she wasn't willing to leave for good yet, because her black leather gloves and a few rubber bands were still laying in the bathroom and her son's bedroom.

-Amen, there you are, Niall smiled when he saw them. He had just got out of the bathroom and had a white towel wrapped around his waist, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.

_ _We didn't come here to see a strip-tease_ , the younger boy joked, signing softly.

-It's my room, I just got out of the shower and I'm gonna dress here if I want to, Curly.

The concerned rolled his eyes and dropped his bag on the ground, noticing two inflatable mattresses had been blown.

A simple and a double mattress.

-Hello, hello!, greeted Lily when she entered the room.

-Usually, Liam started, standing up from his bed where he was reading a magazine, you're supposed to knock on the door before opening it, or at least that's what polite people do.

-I live in the room in front of this one; I can come in like I want, understood, Payne?

-Yes ma'am.

-Who's taking which bed?

-You can all go to hell, warned Zayn as he entered the room, a grey beanie covering his black hair. A jean jacket was thrown over his shoulder and his arms were full with takeaway bags from some Chinese place. I'm keeping my bed.

-How generous of you.

-I know, that's why I'm the one who got all the food.

harry, who had been following the conversation on their lips, let out an amused smile.

-So, what are we eating?

-It's six, Ni; calm your capricious stomach, please.

-So, who's taking which bed?

-Should we pick heads or tails?

-I don't really care, actually, Lily added, glancing at her best friend.

The latter shrugged and when he looked at Louis, he noticed how uncomfortable he seemed to be, his face now white.  
Noticing the awkwardness that was starting to fill the room, the young lady bit her tongue before finally opening her mouth, hoping to find a solution that would help him calm down.

-I can sleep with Harry, if you want?, she offered softly.

-In the double bed?

-Or maybe you'd like to...

-No, it's okay, he assured her immediately with a forced smile.

But it wasn't okay.  
Lily was wrong.  
He absolutely wasn't okay with it.  
He wanted to be, God knew how much he would have preferred it if the cold and painful spear of jealousy didn't pierce his torso once again; but that wasn't the case. He hated the blonde haired girl in front of him, without really knowing why, but it was a fact: he hated her.

*

It was close to nine o'clock and the six students were sat in the middle of the room. The noodles had been eaten, the fried vegetables and the dumplings had all been finished, and everybody was now silent.

-Does anyone want to play a game?, Zayn offered excitedly.

-A game?

-Cards?, Liam asked.

-I don't like card games.

-Truth or Dare, Niall announced.

Harry's irises lit up with nervousness; something Lily notices, but she agreed nonetheless.

-Does anyone have a bottle or a pen?, she then asked.

-I do.

Zayn stood up quickly and grabbed his pencil case on his desk, then grabbed a blue roller pen. He placed it on the middle of the circle they had formed, looked at all of his friends before spinning it.

Liam.

-Truth or Dare?

-Do you guys really wanna play this game?, he sighed.

-Liam.

-Truth.

-Your first time?

-Elizabeth, first year of uni, in her room after a party; I think we both had too much to drink.

And without even letting anyone the time to comment or add something, he span the pen again.  
  
Louis.

-Truth or Dare?

-Errr...

The boy bit his lip and looked down, a soft blush covering his cheeks as he answered, unsure.

-Truth?

-The last wet dream you had?

From light pink, the English man turned to bright red and he stuttered something incomprehensible.

 __What did he say_?, Harry immediately asked, turning to the others as he couldn't read on Louis' lips.

 __I don't know_ , Niall laughed and shrugged.  _No one understood._

-Can you repeat that, Louis?, Zayn asked, a malicious smile hanging from his lips.

-Chicken.

-Already?

-You're no fun, Lou, it's not that hard, Niall joked.

No, obviously; confessing in front of everyone here that he was having wet dreams about his best friend was the most normal thing to do.

Louis didn't know what to do with himself; he was frozen in place and felt like if he looked up, all of them coud read on his forehead, in big and bold letters: « I HAVE DREAMS ABOUT KISSING HARRY STYLES' LIPS. »  
And if they looked into it, he was sure they could also read: « And I loved it. »

So he kept his eyes on the ground and didn't reply, trying to control his voice, which he knew was going to crack.

-Chicken, he repeated, now whispering. He was biting his lip so hard that he could now taste of blood against his tongue.

-Alright, Liam agreed after a few seconds, shrugging when he noticed the skeptical looks from his friends. You still have to spin the pen, though.

Zayn.

-Truth or Dare?

-Dare!

-Drink an entire cup of hot salted water.

The concerned's brown eyes widened and he made a face, but still stood up and headed to the bathroom.  
He came back less than a minute later, a plastic cup in his hand, and he grabbed three bags of salt from the Chinese delivery bag. He poured all three into the up and mixed lightly, before raising the cup to his lips.  
He swallowed like he was asked to, bottoms up; but turned white as soon as he put down the cup on the ground, bringing one hand to his lips and he closed his eyes, trying his best not to throw up.  
All of them were staring at him, silent, a smile painted on their faces.

-Tomlinson, he announced after ten longs seconds, his voice thick; pray that I'm not the one giving you your next dare.

Louis chuckled and stuck his tongue out at him, all awkwardness from his own question forgotten.  
Zayn grabbed the pen, and span it.

Lily.

-Truth or Dare,

-Dare.

_7 minutes in heaven with Harry, the man proudly spoke, signing too so Harry could understand.

-Easy!

And with that, she stood up promptly and grabbed her best friend's hand, who rolled his eyes while following her to the only closet of the room. Liam had followed them and closed the door behind them after making sure the light was shut.

-They won't even be able to talk, that's completely stupid!, Louis protested, but regretted it as soon as he finished.

But he couldn't stay quiet; he couldn't get Lily's satisfied smile out of his head. It was like a triumphant smile, a smile that clearly let everyone know that was all she had been waiting for.  
But it was jealousy that guided his thoughts and made him see a bad thing when there was none.

-They'll find a way, don't worry about that, Zayn retorted, mischief in his eyes.

That sentence only made the oldest's blood boil harder, a swarm of bees filling his stomach, crushing his insides and burning his lungs.

After three minutes, his heart missed a beat when a clear laugh was heard from the inside of the closet, easily recognizable as being Lily's.  
Why the hell was she laughing?  
And just as he managed to finally think about something else, another set of giggles was heard, followed by a quick « shhh » that made Louis' jaw clench. What the hell were they doing in there?  
Niall was staring at Louis, who was shooting daggers through his eyes. The tension that radiated from Louis' body forced him to bite the inside of his cheek when he noticed his friend's strange reaction; reaction that still managed to light a flame of hope inside his blue irises.

Maybe there was still a chance?

*

Louis sighed; it was now past eleven and it was his turn again.

-The last one was a girl in a club, when I went out one or two weeks ago. I don't even know what she was called and I honestly don't care; I was too drunk to even remember what she looked like.

-And you did nothing more than kiss her?, Niall asked, reproach in his voice; which everyone but Louis noticed.

-Yup; I had drunk too much to do anything more, I'm telling you.

That time, it was Harry's turn to feel like he was going to throw up. The only difference was that he knew what this sensation was: one word, eight letters.

Jealousy.

Jealousy was eating him alive like it never had before; it was burning him slowly, leaving wounds and scars along its way.  
Because it is hard to keep on hoping when everything else seems vain, when the man you love confesses without even blinking that he kissed someone. That he kissed a woman.

Louis had kissed a girl.  
A hand settled on Harry's forearm, making him jump out of his thoughts.

_ _Are you okay, Haz?_

He simply nodded while biting his lip, looking down at the pen that was now pointing at.. himself. He immediately looked up at Louis.

_ _Truth or Dare_?, he asked, signing.

_ _Truth_.

The boy nodded and seemed lost in his own thoughts for a while; enough for Niall to glance at him worriedly.

__What does the number 78 mean to you?_

Harry's blood felt cold all of a sudden and Louis' eyes didn't leave his. He hadn't chosen this number out of the blue; the boy knew exactly what he was doing and what he was referring to.  
Louis remembered 'accidentally' finding his friend's sketch - or accidentally snooping through his stuff to find it-, the one that showed (he was almost certain of it) the ink drawing that decorated his left pectoral.  
The other people in the room were disoriented, not understanding the question and the obvious tension that was now emanating from Harry, whose hands were now moist with sweat.

_ _Babycakes_?, Lily called him, worried.

_ _I..._

__Are you gonna answer?_

His white and perfectly aligned teeth dug into his pink and plump lip, making it turn white under so much pressure.

_ _Your tattoo_ , he ended up signing, avoiding Louis' piercing look.

-Huh?

_ _That's why you drew it?_ , Louis asked at the same time.

His green eyes widened and he parted his lips, letting out an empty breath. How did he know about it? How did Louis know he had drawn his tattoo?

_ _Hazza_?

It was Niall's voice. But the boy didn't answer; not because he hadn't seen him sign, but because he simply couldn't think about anything but those goddamn blue eyes and his stupid question.  
And just when he decided he would lie and explain that he had drawn this number because he felt like it, because he could also have draw a random character or flowers, his phone vibrated in his pocked, making him jump and breaking the eye contact.

« From Mum: Deborah came back from Amsterdam yesterday evening and she offered to let me spend a few days at hers. I cleaned everything before leaving and left a cake for you in the fridge. Thank you for lending me your room. »

When he read the last sentence, the boy's fingers tensed around his cellphone and he forgot where he was for a few seconds, biting his lip again. He only noticed when Liam tried getting closer to him, and he tried pulling himself together.

« To Mum: Alright. »

And he slipped his cellphone back into his pocket, focusing his attention back to his friends, who were all staring at him anxiously.

_ _You okay, Haz?_

He nodded and span the pen quickly. At least, the text had had one good effect, it had saved him from having to answer his best friend's question.

Liam.

_ _Truth or Dare_?, he hurried to sign before anyone could ask him any explanations or before Louis could ask him to answer the question.

_ _Hm.. Dare._

__Take off two of your clothes._

A desperate frown appeared on the concerned's face and he sighed, standing up quickly and taking off his t-shirt in one swift motion. He threw it in a corner f the room and unbuckled his belt to take off his jeans and sat back down on the ground, muttering.

-It's cold!, he complained.

An amused laugh was heard from Zayn, who quickly looked down when he met his friend's angry eyes. The latter sighed again and span the pen:

Lily.

The young lady was busy putting on a sweatshirt that looked terribly familiar to Louis, and she bit her tong when she realized it was her turn to play.

-Truth, she announced before he could even ask the question.

-What did you do in the closet with Harry?

She laughed, her eyes twinkling, and buried her hands in the pocket of the purple sweater. And that's what made Louis recognize it: it seemed familiar because it was Harry's!  
He saw red when he noticed that he was the only one bothered by the situation, and anger started filling his body.  
Anger towards the girl in front of him, but also towards himself: he didn't want to feel all these things whenever something like this happened.

-Nothing, actually, Lily explained while glancing at her best friend. There was just a moment where he banged his head against a hanger and it made him swear! Seriously, have you ever heard Haz say « Fucking hell! » with his sweet innocent voice?

The curly haired boy stuck his tongue out at her, crossing his arms against his chest.

_So I burst out laughing, she continued, speaking and signing at the same time, and I stepped on his foot accidentally.

_You almost broke my ankle, Lil!

_Sorry!

She sat up straighter so she could reach Harry's cheeks and plopped a loud kiss there, which only made Louis clench his jaw and fists harder.  
He really needed to calm down.

Without even noticing Louis' murderous look, Lily went back to her black with a victorious smile, spinning the pen too.

Niall.

-Truth or Dare?

-Truth, he answered immediately. He never was one up for a dare.

-What would you do if you had to change your gender for a day?

The question caught everyone's attention; even Louis', who was still fuming and trying to think about something else.

The blonde man thought for a minute, then looked up and answered.

-First of all, he started with an amused laugh, I think I'd stand naked in front of a mirror to study myself; then I'd put on a mini skirt, a provocative décolleté and a pair of heeled shoes. Then I'd go flirt with another girl to see if I kept my sex-appeal.

-So you'd be a lesbian, if you were a girl?, Zayn asked quickly, apparently shocked.

-Well, I'd keep my conscience and mind, right? Then I don't see myself kissing a man, Z; even if I was a girl!

Harry laughed, shaking his head from left to right before he noticed the pen landing on Louis.

-Truth or Dare?, Niall asked, smiling.

\- Dare.

And he didn't have to wait long, it was instantaneous; as if Niall had been waiting all evening so he could challenge his friend.

-French kiss one of us for at least ten seconds.

Everyone in the room stopped breathing; and for the next few seconds, you could have heard an ant walk on the ground.  
Louis' blue irises were empty from any emotions and he was staring at Niall as if he was crazy. Kiss one of them? It was impossible; it was absolutely impossible! He wouldn't kiss any of the boys here, and Lily was excluded too: he wouldn't kiss that girl for all the gold in the world.

Zayn had snapped his head to Niall and seemed scandalized, not understanding why he had said that. It didn't make any sense; how was Louis supposed to make a choice? The game suddenly seemed dangerous; challenging someone to kiss one of their friends definitely wasn't amusing, not in this situation, at least.

Liam was disconcerted; he was trying to think about all the different possible scenarios and to be honest, it was obvious none of those would end up calmly. Harry would be hurt if he had to watch his boy kiss someone else; and he would be too if Louis kissed him just to win a stupid dare.

Lily had turned to Niall and couldn't believe what she had just heard; she couldn't imagine Louis with someone that wasn't Harry. Even when the boy had confessed having kissed a random woman while he was drunk, she hadn't been able to imagine it.

Harry was lost. He was desperately trying to catch Niall's eyes to beg him to change his question, to ask him to turn back time, to do anything so he wouldn't have to watch Louis kiss someone else.

Because it was obvious the boy wasn't going to kiss him; nor was he going to kiss any of the boys: Louis was going to kiss his best friend, he was going to kiss Lily.  
He was going to kiss her, because Lily was a girl and the Louis in front of him was straight.

-I.. Chicken, Louis then announced, stuttering.

And honestly, it wouldn't have bothered anyone if he had taken a second one, because it was probably better that way; but Niall simply shook his head, confusing his friends even more.

-You can't, you already used it for your first question, Lou.

-Chicken, he repeated again.

-No.

Louis closed his eyes, biting his tongue, and muttered something that couldn't be polite if he repeated it out loud.

-Niall, Liam started, conscious that the atmosphere was now extremely tense.

-Wait.

And that was the only reply he got, everyone's look following Niall's.

Louis couldn't hear himself think anymore; the only things his brain could comprehend were word, sounds.  
He felt like his head was going to explode; it was buzzing, his mind was going places it never had before and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

But when he thought about it, there was no reason why he should feel that way; it was just a stupid game, a stupid dare; he shouldn't be panicking this much, he shouldn't think about what the others could think.

It was a game, he had to kiss one of them; that could be Zayn, Liam, Niall, Lily, or Harry.

Harry.

And for half a second, the thought of kissing Harry swept all of his fears and doubts away; as if the idea of kissing his best friend was going to solve everything, as if it was normal.

That sole constatation was so prompt and spontaneous that he took his chance because he could panic any more, and he moved one of his limbs, noticing he luckily wasn't actually paralyzed.

The room was still silent and the sound of his clothes brushing against each other when he moved was heard. He stood on all fours and crossed the circle they had formed to go to Harry, who was staring at him intensely.

Before the boy could breathe, he felt a warm and soft hand brush his cheek and grab his neck, their breaths mixing with each other before their lips touched.

Louis was surprised at how much of Harry he could feel, but he didn't give up, his fingers gripping the tiny curls in the crook of his neck, his mouth pushing a little harder on Harry's, their lips wet.

It was then that Harry realized what was happening, and he took control of his muscles again, squeezing Louis against him; his hands making their way from Louis' waist up his spine, before going down again.

In the end, a kiss is instinctive; you never learn how to kiss a boy or a girl, just like you never learn how to love. You experience life on your own and the actions follow. You stop thinking when doing things, you just are yourself; and you often end up being someone you didn't think you'd be. You learn to discover yourself, you live the moment as if nothing else mattered, except the person you are sharing it with.

That was the case with this kiss, those short seconds that still felt like an eternity for the two boys who were meeting again without knowing it; an eternity that had to stop.

The pressure of Harry's waist weakened and their lips parted, their eyelids fluttering open before the oldest took conscience of the situation.

He was kneeling in front of Harry, who was still sat on the ground and was panting, his emerald eyes digging into Louis' blue ones.

All the doubts and fears caught up to him; he felt his body abandon him when he thought about what had just happened, what he had just done.

He had kissed Harry; he had kissed his best friend!

One of his hands was still laying on the boy's thigh and he quickly took it back, running that same hand through his messy hair before hastily standing up, spinning a few times as if he was lost.

Everyone was staring at him.

He took a few steps back, and it one last movement, before anyone could talk or comment on his actions; he ran to the door and left in a hurry.

There's a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is when there simply is no success, everyone fails. But a fiasco is a disaster of legendary scale.

Liam had been right when the dare had been spoken: this challenge wasn't a failure.  
It couldn't, even in the best case scenario, have ended up with a failure.

This kiss had been a terrifying fiasco.


	21. Chapter Nineteen

**« It's easier to deny things than to enquire about them. »**

***

The door had slammed thirty seconds ago but no one had said a word yet. Harry could still feel the touch of Louis' fingers against the skin of his back, and that, added to the spicy but soothing taste of Louis' lips made him feel all sort of things. He still couldn't believe what had just happened; it was like time had frozen at the moment the oldest left the room: no one was moving and even their breaths were faint.

-Why did you do that?

Zayn was the first to react, the first to dare face the situation, and it was obvious he was talking to Niall. But he didn't reply; the boy had looked down on the dusty floor and was biting his lip so harshly it was probably bleeding. He was uncomfortable and didn't dare look up, because even though Louis had left, he didn't regret anything.

-Niall?, Liam repeated, breaking the silence too.

But it was clear the Irish man didn't want to give them an explanation; not to them, at least; the only person he cared about was Harry. That's why he took his courage and looked up to look at his friend, noticing Harry hadn't moved and was staring at the door as if it was going to bring Louis back.

But they were all very aware that it wasn't going to happen.  
Niall stood up and walked over to where Harry was sat, not waiting for him to acknowledge his presence to take him into his arms.

-I'm sorry, he whispered into his hair, aware that Harry wouldn't hear him.

Harry shivered when he felt his friend's hot breath against his neck, but he squeezed him tighter, wrapping his arms around Niall's back as if his life depended on it.

-Why did you do that, Niall?, Zayn sighed behind his back, not even pretending to be mad at him anymore.  
-Better live with remorse than regret, he just replied, feeling the younger boy's curls dig a little harder into his shoulder as the first tears started rolling down his cheeks.

And with that, the boy had managed to make everyone understand the motives of why he had given this dare to Louis.  
He had hoped it could be some kind of trigger for him; that the flow of emotions would transport him enough to make him remember the things he used to feel towards Harry.

He had hoped for the situation to be better.  
He had hoped for something to happen.  
He had just hoped that the sweet fairytales were real and a kiss would be enough to wake someone up - because if life was an utopia, then Louis was a princess and he needed help to get back what he'd lost.

But there was his mistake, life was far from perfect and sometimes, a simple dare could turn into a disaster.

*

Louis had been riding for way too long now; his head was empty and he rode without even paying attention to the cars he passed or the directions he took. The only thing he was aware of was the fact that he was going way too fast.  
He didn't see the clock spinning in front of him and it's only when he saw he had taken the exit to Doncaster that he realized he had gone a little over the line; it had taken him two hours and a half instead of three fifteen.   
The lights of the city looked familiar to him as soon as he passed the welcome board and felt a little better, despite the anger that was still flooding through his veins.  
His childhood home appeared in his field of vision at the same time as Liam's number on the screen of his phone; and he threw the latter in the back of is car, not even bothering with taking the call to let his friends know he was safe.  
He parked at the side of the road and if he hadn't gotten fine for riding way over the limit, he would surely get one for parking messily without a ticket.  
The entry door was obviously closed and even though he didn't have a spare set of keys with him, he didn't mind; he knew his mum always hid a key somewhere for situations like these.  
So he walked around the house, jumping over the small fence that led to the garden and lifted a few flower pots. It was hard to see, as it was pitch black and the only lights he could trust came from the moon and the screen of his phone.  
He finally found what he was looking for under the doormat, in front of the back door, and he unlocked the door without a sound. He then dropped the key on the first table he saw and climbed the stairs as discreetly as he could, before entering the room that was still his, letting himself fall down heavily against the king mattress.  
It was at this moment that his mind emerged from the compete blackout he had been living in.  
What happened? What was wrong with him? Why had he kissed Harry? When had he lost control of the situation?  
All these questions were rushing in his head, a few more joining in as the seconds went by.  
The more he thought about the kiss, the more he remembered how soft his best friend's lips had been on his, how authentic and happy he had felt, and the butterflies that had started flying in his stomach.  
Why did it have to happen to him?  
Why did he have to kiss him?  
Couldn't he have kissed someone else? Zayn? Niall? Liam?  
No, he should have kissed Lily; he should have kissed Lily, because Lily was a irl. Lily was a girl and Louis liked girls. Louis didn't like boys; he didn't like Harry. He liked girls.  
Girls.

He wasn't sure when he fell into an agitated unconsciousness; but his body kept on shivering and sweating throughout his sleep, and it sure wasn't because of the winter heat.

*

When Niall opened his eyes the next morning, he noticed with surprise that for once, he hadn't woken up because of his alarm but because of Zayn's loud snoring, who was sleeping in the bed next to his.  
He muttered a few words, rolled around in his blanket to notice Harry wasn't sleeping anymore.  
The boy, who was laying on one of the makeshift mattresses from the night before, had his eyes wide open and red because of the tears he had been trying to hide all night long. But no matter how hard he had tried muffling his cries into his pillow, no one was fooled; and thirty minutes after the lights went down, Lily had moved out of her sleeping bag to snuggle with her best friend.  
It was for that reason the young woman was now asleep, wrapped in Harry's arms, her face comfortably buried in his neck, with one of her arms wrapped around Harry's waist.  
It wasn't the first time they were sleeping together ; so Niall wasn't shocked but the scene. He even attempted to smile at his friend, who struggled to smile back at him: it was obvious, if he could trust the dark bags under his eyes, that he had barely slept.  
It was only 6:17am, but neither of them felt like going back to sleep.  
Niall could tell his friend didn't want to talk about yesterday's events or anything even remotely close to being related with the stupid game they had played, so he nodded; letting him know he understood.  
Instead, he stood up silently, making the wooden floor crack lightly under his weight, and walked straight to his closet to grab a pair of jeans and a dark green t-shirt.

_ _I'm going to get us some breakfast_ , he explain to his friend.   
Harry simply nodded, squeezing his friend a little tighter and burying his face back into her hair without waking her up.

*

When Louis burst into the kitchen the next morning, his eyes still sleepy and his hair messily ruffled, the sound of his sibling's cheerful conversations stopped abruptly; their sweet and angelic faces had turned to look at him with surprise and joy they didn't try to hide.

-Lou!, they all exclaimed.

-Hey, he tried answering, forcing a smile and holding back a yawn.

-What are you doing here?

-Since when do I need a valid excuse to come visit my little sisters?

\- You don't, laughed Félicité, who jumped out of her stool to hug her brother.

Immediately, the twins joined he hug and soon, all of them had their arms wrapped around each other. Their good mood was contagious, enough for Louis to laugh and forget about his problems for a moment.

-What is ha-, Johanna's started when she entered the room. Louis?

-Hey mum.

He was trying to free himself out of Phoebe's embrace and shot his mother an honest but tired smile.

-How are you, baby?, she replied, hugging him too, more calmly.  
-I...

But the words stayed quiet in his throat and he broke the eye contact, choking silently on the words and syllables that refused to get out.  
It was at this moment Johannah understood something was wrong and she nodded, letting him know they would talk about it later.

-Girls, if we don't go now, we're going to be late, and I don't want to receive a message from Lottie's college, so hurry up; you'll see Louis this-

She stopped and turned to her son with hesitation.

-You're staying until tonight, right?

She was looking at him with eyes that were scared of him disappearing any time soon and he smiled sadly but nodded; he didn't want to go back to London today anyway.

*

He had just finished washing the glasses when the entry door slammed again and a set of keys was dropped on the pedestal table.  
Johannah came in the kitchen and Louis turned around, a dish towel in one hand and the last bowl in the other.

-How are you?, she then asked, sitting down on a chair and gesturing for him to do the same.

The man sighed and dropped the wet cloth he was holding, plopping himself in front of her and burying his head between his hands. He muttered something incomprehensible that vaguely sounded like « mylifeissocomplicatedevenarubikscubewouldbeeasiertosolve » and sighed again.

-I didn't understand that correctly, Boo.

She had smiled tenderly and was holding out one hand to him, running her fingers through his hair.

-I don't know where I'm at, mum, he let out, raising his head a bit.

-What do you mean?

-I...

His words stopped but he shook his head.

-I feel lost; it's like if everything i thought didn't make any sense, I have reactions that are so contradictory to what I think is right and true that it's painful. How is it possible that my life became so complicated and messed up in four years time? I always feel like everyone is hiding something from me and-

He stopped when he realized his eyes were burning and tears were threatening to start rolling down his cheeks.

-Louis, Johannah murmured, standing up to wrap him in her arms; my baby...

-I have galaxies in my head, but I'm not shining, not anymore. I just don't recognize myself, mum...

The sobs tightened his throat a little more when he felt his mum's sweet smell, and he let himself fall into her arms, giving up his battles against the salted tears that now wet his face.

-You're Louis, she whispered, caressing his hair softly.

-But who is Louis?

-He's my baby.

-That's really helping me, mum.

He smiled weakly through his pain and that reassured Jay, who wasn't sure how she could help her son without confusing him even more. She ran a soft and comforting hand against his cheekbone.

-Do you want to talk about it?, she asked after a few minutes of silence.

-Hm.

-Boo?

All the questions were giving him a headache already and his throat was so tight that he felt like he wouldn't be able to let a word out.  
But these questions were there; ready to be asked and hid in a corner of his head.

'Why can't I do anything correctly? Why do I miserably fail everything I do? Why is everything so complicated? Do I have a problem? Is it wrong if my best friend is gay? Am I weird?'

-I'm gonna take a nap.

-But it's not even ten in the morning yet, Louis!

He walked out of her strong and affectionate embrace and stood up, immediately feeling more fragile and vulnerable. It was indeed ten in the morning, but he felt broken and not able to function mentally.  
So he tried comforting her with a shrug before taking a few steps back and turning around to smile at her.

-I need to sleep.

/The English man was walking in circles, making the boards of the wooden floor of his friend's room crack behind him.  
He had been in this weird phase for about thirty minutes now and neither one of them really cared about the classes they were missing.

-Louis, Niall repeated for the tenth time at least.  
He was laying across his bed, the dirty sole of his Supra's resting against the white wall.

-I don't know.

He sighed, and the sound of ruffled sheets announced him his friend had sat up straight; Niall was now staring at him intensely, something he didn't do that often, which only proved how serious the situation was.

-Tomlinson; you're making me skip biology class, which wouldn't given me extra marks for my next exam, so you better spit out whatever you've got to say.

-Niall!

-Sorry, but watching you walk in circles like that is driving me crazy. Say it!

-I think I like him?

\- You love him?

-I don't love him; no! Don't you see what I'm talking about ? It's just... I like him. But I'm not addicted to him.

An amused and malicious smiled broke onto Niall's lips, but he didn't add anythig; he knew his friend wasn't done explaining.

-Well, I think about I'm a lot, you see but... It's not permanent. Or at least I don't think so. But it still happens a lot: I'm wondering what he's doing, or who he's with, I wonder who he thinks about or if he sometimes thinks about me.

Niall didn't answer but he laughed; accentuating the uneasiness and the tension that radiated from Louis.

-What are you laughing, Ni! It's not funny; I don't understand and I want you to help me, but all you do is yell at me until I tell you but then you make fun-

-Louis, you're so contradictory!

-Huh?

-You're in love.

-What the fuck, haven't you listened to any of wh-

-Louis.

-What?, he sighed, finally calming down to look at his friend.

-You're in love.

-Shit, Niall.

-I know.

-Fuck you!

-How long has it been?

-Two months.

-And you've kept it all to yourself for two months!, he replied, outraged.

-But it's scary! I don't know if you realize, Niall; I'm in love with my best friend, I'm in love with Harry. /

-Lou-lou!, a childish voice yelled into his ear, taking him away from his dreams.

-Ugh.

The man rolled onto his side, burying his face in the soft cushions, groaning again when the whispers started again, closer this time.

-Lou-lou!

-Fizzy, he complained. What are you doing here so early? Let me get back to sleep and wake me up when your sisters all get back from-

-But we're all here; they're having a snack in the kitchen! Mum said we needed to wake you up because you slept all day and we picked someone to come and get you! I won, because Daisy had the-

-Wait, what?

Louis had sat up so fast Félicité lost her balance and would've fallen off the bed if her brother hadn't grabbed her shoulder quick enough. He put her back on the bed and placed a strand of her haired behind her ear, holding back another yawn.

-It's five, she laughed, jumping off the bed hurriedly.

-Already?

-What are you doing home? Didn't you have class?

The little girl's curious and amused tone wiped any trace of frustration from Louis' face and he smiled, dropping a kiss on her cheekbone.

-Tell mum I'm coming.

She nodded and walked away, being as loud as she could be as she jumped down the stairs. As soon as the door slammed shut, Louis pushed himself further into the cushions and ran his hands over his face. It had happened again, he had dreamed about Harry and about his stupid attraction to his brown curls.  
What was wrong with him? What was fucking wrong with him?  
Why did he have to dream about that? Why had he kissed Harry?  
And that sole question reminded him of the night before, which he had been trying to erase from his memory. The party; one that was supposed to be between them, where they would play until late and wake up dead tired the next morning.  
But that part had been a fiasco, and not only because of the way it had ended.  
It also been a disaster because of his jealousy towards Lily. It was her fault if he hadn't been able to appreciate their stupid game, right?  
Truth or Dare. Why the hell had he agreed on playing that game? Why had he chosen Dare? Why had he chosen Harry?  
Of all the people present in the room, he could've picked anyone; Liam, Niall, Zayn, Lily; but he had chosen Harry. Harry. His best friend. His gay best friend.  
He knew if he focused hard enough, he would manage to feel the warmth of his lips against his; he knew it because he had dreamt about them all day and all night, he had thought about it while washing the dishes. He remembered how it had tasted: a sweet and spicy, hot and cold, calm and hurried mix. He remembered the burning caress of his fingers against his necks and the shivers that had ran down his spine when Harry had touched him.  
Why did he remember all of these tiny details that probably wouldn't have much importance to anyone else, when he couldn't remember what Zayn's or Liam's dares were?

-Louis?, Johannah called from down the stairs.

-Coming!

His goddamn brain, that didn't want to function properly.  
He ran down the stairs with as much grace and delicacy as his little sister had and burst into the kitchen, still slightly disoriented by his previous réflexions.

-Slept well, you sloth?

-Lottie, language, Johannah sighed, rolling her eyes.

-I was being polite!

-Of course you were, laughed her brother, sitting down on a chair to grab the pot of rhubarb jam in front of him.

-I didn't get to ask this morning, his mum started softly, but are the boys doing alright?

Surprised, Louis looked up from the sandwich he was making and met his mother's curious gaze.

-They're doing perfectly great, yeah.

-Harry too?

The shivers that shook his entire body at the mention of Harry's name forced him to wait a few seconds before answering. He didn't trust his voice; which was surely going to break because of all the flashbacks from the night before that were currently rushing through his mind.

-Wasn't he included in 'the boys'?, he ended up answering.

-Of course he was.

-So why are you asking about him?

-Because he's different.

-How is he any different?

-You know what I mean, Boo, she sighed.

-No.

His negative response was voluntary ; of course he knew what she meant, but hearing someone say his name out lout had awakened the anger that slept in him.  
An anger mostly directly towards himself; but also towards Lily and Harry.

The first one for having tried to drive him crazy with her stupid laughs, her heated stares or the Seven Minutes in Heaven with Harry; or simply for stealing his beanie, his sweater or always hugging him.  
The second one for always being the only thing Louis could think about and for kissing him back the night before.  
Sure, he had been the one who had initiated the kiss, sure it was too heated and passionate to be nothing but a dare; but that didn't change anything about the fact that Harry had kissed him too, he had wrapped his hand around Louis' neck, another around his back and he-

-Girls, go do your homework, please.

Johannah' soft but authoritarian tone took Louis out of his torturous thoughts , and after another stern look from their mother, the girls nodded and all four of them walked to their rooms quickly.

-Louis.

-What?, he sighed, massaging his temples and closing his eyes.

He hadn't touched the sandwich in front of him but suddenly, he wasn't as hungry anymore.

-What's happening? Is everything fine between you two?

-But mum are you even hearing yourself?, he exploded, reopening his eyes with anger.

\- Excuse me?

-Who do you care about the most, mum? Which one of us is your son? Is it me or is it Harry?!

-Louis, calm dow-

-But I'm not angry!, he retorted sarcastically, his voice brutal.

He was almost as surprised as his mum about the venomous tone of his voice; he had never talked to her like that.  
But that wasn't what bothered him the most; in any other context, she would've stopped him, would have yelled at him too and ordered for him to calm down and go to his room.  
But she didn't ; she didn't do anything and just stared at him, and that was what drove him insane.

-What's bothering you so much? Was he the one who got into a car accident? Is he the one who suffers from amnesia? Fucking hell, mum!

-Lou, calm down...

And sentence made him loose all he had left of self-control. He stood up, and with his strength, the chair knocked against the granite worktop.

-I came here so I wouldn't have to deal with Harry anymore; holy shit, is that too much to ask from you? He's the only thing everyone ever talks about! Leave me alone, I don't fucking care about his curly hair or his green eyes!

The brutality and vulgarity of his words shook up and he closed his mouth quickly.  
The distress that Jay could read in her son's eyes was the only thing keeping her from getting angry at him and she suddenly felt brave.

-Honey...

-Stop it, mum.

His voice was trembling, but controlled, and he took a few steps back when she tried getting closer to him.

-Listen, love; I know hints can be difficult but we're all there to help you, cutting us off won't help in-

-Mum. I don't need your help, I'm doing great!

\- So why are you so angry about me talking about Harry?, she replied softly.

-Because I'm not fucking gay!

The words had left his lips before he could even think about it and his muscles froze, his breath hitching.  
Louis understood his mum was going to talk when she pinched her bottom lip and he shook his head, taking another step back.

-Don't say anything.

-Louis, you-

-Don't.

He shot a desperate look at the time that was shown on the oven and bit his tongue, unable to align two full sentences.

-I'm gonna head back to London.

-What? No, Louis, you're staying-

-I need to think, and driving will help me sort everything out in my head.

-Louis, it's raining!

-I don't care!

He was shouting again, and saw his mother jump. Hitting himself mentally, he closed his eyes and sighed before continuing more calmly:

-I'll text you when I arrive, and please tell the girls I'll call them tomorrow.

-Louis..

-I really need to think.

He headed towards the front door but as soon as his hand grabbed the door handle, he turned around, feeling his heart swell with remorse. He just wanted to soothe the pain he was feeling. Johannah was stood in front of him, a faint smile painted on her face.

-I still love you, mum.

-I know, baby, she smiled, hugging him again. I know.

He let himself be rocked in her arms and for another few second, he felt at ease.

-Be careful on the road, okay?

-Promise.

*

He parked three hours later at the side of Wellington Street and checked his phone, which showed 8:30pm.

« From Eleanor: No worries, I didn't have any plans for tonight. You can come. :)x »

He shut the engine down and put his keys away in his jacket, quickly writing a text to tell his mum he had arrived to London safely.  
Louis then left his car and walked towards Eleanor's building, took the elevator and wondered once more why he was there. But he didn't have to think about it too long, the answer was simple:

Harry.  
There was his answer.  
He was here because of Harry.  
He had indeed had three hours and fifteen minutes to think about what he would have to do when back in London; and that was the conclusion he had come to: go see Eleanor.  
He wasn't sure which reasonings or equations he had referred to to end up with this answer, but that was what he thought would be best to do, as the sun slowly went down.  
He needed to go see Eleanor to prove himself he wasn't gay, that he didn't like men and that he didn't like Harry. He needed to do it to confirm that he hadn't liked the feeling of his incredibly soft lips against his; that he had hated the growing feeling of euphoria when he had felt Harry kiss him back.

Harry.  
Harry.  
Harry.

He felt like he was thinking in circles: everything always brought him back to the curly haired boy and it drove him insane.  
He currently felt like throwing up all the Chinese food he had eaten the previous evening.

The previous evening;  
Harry.  
Again.

The loud chiming of the élève-toi warned him he had now reached the second floor and he jumped, coming back to reality as if he had been pushed off of his bed.  
Eleanor opened her door three seconds after he knocked, and once again, it looked like she had camped behind the wooden separation from the moment he had last texted her.

-Hey Louis, she smiled immediately, standing on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

-Hey, you alright?

\- Very good. I was really happy you texted me, I wasn't doing anything special; I was just watching a movie.

They reached the living room and let themselves fall down on the couch lazily, a synchronized sigh escaping their mouths.

-Tired?, she laughed softly.

-Exhausted; even though I slept all day.

-Have you eaten anything?

-No, but I'm alright.

-I can make you some-

-Don't worry, El, he insisted, grabbing one of her hands to make her react.

And for a moment, an electric spark burned his forearm; a small one, similar to the ones he had felt with Harry.

Harry.

He really needed to stop coming back to this boy; it was becoming a problem for his mental health.

-Louis?

Eleanor's soft and melodic voice soothed his torments for a few seconds and he smiled at her; realizing he felt at ease with her, really good. He felt safe; safe from his demons and whatever could happen to him.

\- What were you watching?, he then asked, pushing himself a little further against the back of the sofa and scooting closer to her so he could wrap a hand around her waist naturally.

-Philadelphia.

A childish and happy grin hadn't left the woman's face since Louis had entered her flat and almost immediately, she laid her head against his shoulder, breathing in discreetly the smell of his cologne: lemon and lavender mixed with the smell of his body wash.

-You smell nice, she let out unconsciously, closing her eyes.

She only realized what she'd said when Louis' body started shaking with laughter and she looked up, a blush quickly covering her cheeks.

-I; well, you...

-Thanks, El. You smell nice too.

And it was true, while he returned the compliment, he noticed the girl smelled like berries: he figured she had probably used some kind of berry-flavored cleansing product.  
The distance between their two faces had significantly reduced due to their movements and for a moment, Eleanor's warm and sweet breath caressed the skin of Louis' lips, making him shiver.  
The situation shouldn't have looked weird to him, because she was a beautiful, calm and smart girl; but he couldn't ignore the sharp spike that was constantly lacerating his heart.  
He felt like he didn't belong here, like he was betraying someone, like he was betraying himself, maybe; but he didn't know why. He didn't know why he felt so bad, why the situation was so awkward.  
So in a way, ignoring his problems comforted him; and that's made him move his face even closer to crush the last millimeters that were separating their mouths.

His mouth met Eleanor's before their breaths even had the time to meet and the young woman immediately kissed her back, moving her lips slowly, in a way that showed she had been waiting for this moment since the day they had met.  
There was no spark; not because the kiss was bad, but because they had gone too fast: they hadn't let their eyes meet  to loose themselves for a few seconds; they hadn't let the time for their respiration to hitch and they hadn't let the time or their heart to beat out of their chests.

They had gone too fast to make it perfect.

They hadn't had the time, those short few minutes before a kiss, that make it magical; a few minutes that he did have with Harry yesterday and he walked over to where he was sat, sitting on his knees and gliding his hand along his cheekbone.  
And as his lips moved in a synchronized way with Eleanor's, he realized he was thinking about his best friend, again.  
The fear and anger that took control of him when he realized he couldn't stay focused on what was happening right now pushed him to deepen the kiss and he sat up straighter, grabbing Eleanor by the hips and pushing her down onto the couch, Louis straddling her hips and keeping on kissing her.

But it didn't work.

The situation was only becoming worse, because he felt really uncomfortable: the lips against his felt abnormally thin and rough, and for a moment, the taste of strawberry grossed him out enough to make him feel nauseous.  
It was at this moment the young lady let her hands glide under his t-shirt to trace random shapes on his back and he hovered; but it wasn't shiver of pleasure, but of confusion and shame. None of what she was doing seemed genuine or real.  
And it wasn't because she was doing it wrong.

It was because it was her.

-Lou?, her worried voice asked; her hungry kisses stopped temporarily. Is everything okay?

-Hm? Yes. Yes, sorry, I was thinking about something else.

She had an amused smile and wrapped her legs around his waist to flip both of them around. She was now above him and was running a hand through his hair.

-So let help you stop thinking about that.

And before he could say anything, Eleanor's lips were back on his as her cold fingertips glide over his white t-shirt, pushing a little harder against his torso with each caress.  
Louis closed his eyes, forcing himself to stop thinking about anything else.  
And he managed to do so; yes. It finally happened when the figure above him turned into a heavier one, with more muscles but infinitely more attentive. The smell had also change and tiny brown curls were now tickling his nose.

« -Are you gay? »

His body froze all of a sudden when he heard the question and he took came back to reality, his teeth digging into Eleanor's lip by accident, who let out a muffled moan.

« -What?! »

The dialogue was coming from the television and the movie that Eleanor was watching before he arrived.

« -Are you gay? You know, a faggot? I, a punk, a fruit, a queen, a fairy, a booby snatcher, rump roaster, pillow biter, ARE YOU GAY? »

This time, his heart was beating out of his chest; but not for the right reasons: it should've been beating because of Eleanor, because of the kisses she was dropping in his neck randomly.  
But there was te problem: his heart was beating like crazy because of the question he heard.  
He had just imagined Harry where Eleanor currently was; his best friend instead of this young woman. He had imagined, while completely awake, the feeling of the boy's body on his.  
That sole thought drove him crazy and he sat up hastily, pushing harshly his friend, who, surprised, didn't protest, a mask on incomprehension covering her features.

-Louis..? Is everything okay?

-I've....

« I just realized I wanted you to be a man. »

-Sorry, he murmured, running two hands over his face, sighing. I've got to go.

-What? What are you talking about?

-I have to go, El, that's it. It's not your fault, I just have a.. a problem, yeah , that's it; a problem I need to take care of.

And he stood up, grabbing his jacket that was waiting for him on the table and headed back to the door, brushing his clothes as he did so.

-Louis! You can't just leave like that!

And when he turned around, he noticed for the first time that her cheeks were red and her hair was all tangled. Her dress was a mess and it was obvious he had hurt her, because she was on the verge of crying.

-I'll call you, alright?, he promised, before turning the handle and escaping through the hallway like a thief.

Something was wrong with him.


	22. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is the last one. :)

**« Anger is like alcohol: it can be useful from time to time but must be used wisely. »**

***

The storm was now at its fullest and it was hard to see further than three feet away. Louis was riding fast, the tires of his car splashing the sidewalk and the passers-by every time he turned the wheel at full speed.

His hands were trembling on the steering wheel but he didn't care, the only thing he wanted was to go home and bury himself under the warmth of his blankets, not think about anything and patiently wait for death to come get him.

Death was his metaphor for the void; he wanted void, emptiness, nothing; he wanted what sleeping pills could give him: he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget, because he didn't understand anything, despite all the signals his brain was sending him.

He activated his turn signal when he turned at the corner of Erbury Street, and at the same moment, a blinding flash of light broke the dark sky a couple of kilometers away. It made the boy jump, and for the first time since he started the car, his foot hit the brake  harshly and he listened to the deep silence of the night.

The car immediately jolted in front of so much spontaneity from its driver and skidded on a puddle, gliding for a few seconds and giving him the fright of his life.

Louis' heart was beating wildly against his rib cage, and his car finally stopped, intact, at the end of the road. He noticed a thin layer of sweat was now covering his forehead; his respiration was clipped, but the booming sound he was expecting never came. He counted to twenty to make sure; but apparently, the storm was still far away and he had enough time to get back home.

Trying to calm down and taking deep breaths, he let go of the brake and turned his headlights a little brighter, trying desperately to see a little more clearly in this mess. His speed was still as high, despite the fright he had just experienced ; but he wasn't stupid, just scared, scared of not getting home in time to be safe from the thunder.

/ He was riding, it was almost night and every streetlight that lit the avenue reflected onto the windshield. The streets were almost empty, and maybe it was a good thing, because he was definitely riding way over the speed limit and it couldn't possibly be safe.

The rain that was continuously falling down on his car didn't make Louis' vision any clearer and his headlights only helped him see walls of rain in front of him.

He wanted to hurry, because Harry was waiting for him so they could start the movie, he was probably waiting for him wrapped in their blue blanket, on the couch. That thought made him smile and he sped up a little, not liking the idea of being out on his own in such a weather.

A storm was coming, and if the sound of thunder broke the silence of the night before he had the time to get home, he would probably get a panic attack and would have to handle it alone.  
And he had always struggled to handle his attacks alone.

Another set of shivers shook him and he got blinded by a bright flash of light and for a short moment, his sight got blurred completely, not allowing him to see the next bend.

It's only when he blinked a few times, half a second too late, that he managed to distinguish the 90° bend, and the only movement he managed to do was clenching the steering wheel before he totally lost control of the car.

The tires screeched against the wet asphalt and the engine hit something heavy and sturdy.

Louis couldn't see anything, because he had closed his eyes, but he felt himself glide towards the other side of the road and hit another obstacle, but with more intensity and pain than the previous time. /

The memory faded away as quickly as it arrived and for a moment, Louis didn't remember where he was or what he was currently doing.

It's only when, once again, a flash of light blinded him that he realized he was still riding at full speed and a shop window was quickly approaching him.

For the second time that evening, he focused all his strength on hitting the break and by miracle, the car stopped right in front of the pavement.

His already hurried breath was now a complete mess and if he didn't calm down soon, the lack of air was going to make him faint.

No one seemed to have noticed the almost-accident, and Louis was glad. He breathed in deeply, trying to focus on his respiration and his uneven heartbeat. His eyelids were shut so he wouldn't have to stare at the darkness, the rain or the flashs of lightning in front of him. He was gripping the wheel so harshly his knuckles had turned white, but he didn't give a damn.

He needed to calm down, take control of his nerves that had exploded from the moment he had left Eleanor's. He needed to put all of his worries in the 'mess' folder of his head, forgetting about them would have been perfect but he knew he would need to rethink everything over, so that would do for now.

And in his unconsciousness, he imagine two emerald orbs in his head; two irises as green as the land during the winter, as bright as the moss in the forests, as beautiful as everything green.

He visualized those two familiar eyes in his mind as neatly as if had been standing in front of him and he slowly calmed own. Slowly, his breathing went back to normal and he blinked slowly, letting his vision the time to adapt to the darkness before checking the time.

9.48pm.

*

The storm never came back, and that's what allowed Louis to get back to the flat he shared with his best friend. He opened the door without a sound and discreetly walked to his room, passing out on his bed almost immediately. It smelled like liquorice, weirdly enough.

*

It's the usual smell of cinnamon tea that woke him up the next morning. He had struggled to sleep peacefully, his dreams always troubled by the memory he had gotten back the day before: his accident.

In each new night nightmare, he found himself in the same red car, the rain beating down with intensity, flash of lights blinding him every few seconds; and he knew the bend was coming, he knew he was there but he couldn't avoid it.

Every time, he woke up on the floor because of the shock he was facing, and every time the same thing came to his mind: 'slow down'.

A sentence that didn't have place in the jungle of emotions he was feeling, but that was the only coherent thing he could think of.

Harry was already up and was probably already having breakfast in the kitchen. He didn't know Louis was home, and the thought of having to face his best friend made him nauseous, so he rolled back under the blankets, breathing in the smell of liquorice that didn't belong there.

But he needed to get up, he couldn't avoid his problems any longer: he needed to face Harry, and the sooner he did so, the less he would have to speculate about what he would do wrong.

So he threw his blankets, which fell a few feet away from the round bed and he sat up, sighed heavily and ran his hands across his face, taking his hair out of his face. He could do it, after all, it was just Harry.

-Precisely, he said to himself. Exactly, it's Harry.  
And he felt like a complete idiot.

Only him would be stupid enough to talk to himself, because apparently, he had been stupid enough to kiss his best friend during a stupid game and had come to the conclusion that he had liked it.

He left his room, slowing down as much as possible and even allowed himself to go check the bathroom first. Maybe he could win a couple minutes for extra preparation? Noticing all the girly beauty products had disappeared, he came to the conclusion that Anne had ended up packing her bags.  
But that was not what it him:   
The reflection the mirror was sending back at him scared him and he bit his tongue:

His face was gaunt, paler than usual, and pretty dark bags circled his eyes, contrasting with his blue irises and the white of his skin. No, he wasn't okay, he wasn't okay anymore; he had sleepless nights, that he spent worrying and trying to remember, trying to put all the pieces together in his head, only to end up with an even messier result. He was trying to remember what he had lost; but the more he tried, the less he understood and the more he lost himself.

From a slightly blurred image, he had ended up with an opaque fog, that seemed insurmountable and was pushing him away.

-Enough!, the voice inside of his head yelled.

It was official: he was going insane.  
Suddenly, a violent headache struck him, and the white lights of the bathroom neons didn't make things any better. So he closed his eyes and turned the light off, trying to take the pain away from his being, without much success.

He sighed and shook his head, hitting himself mentally when he realized that was only making his migraine worsen, and he left the bathroom to head to the kitchen where, as he expected, Harry was having breakfast.

The boy was sat on a stool near the counter and had his back turned to him; which didn't make his task easy: how was he going to tell him he was back without giving him the fright of his life?

He thought about tapping his shoulder, but he would jump, and maybe hit him - even though Harry didn't seem like the violent kind-, or maybe he could just join him and pour himself a nice cup of coffee.

He sighed; why did it have to be so complicated?

Starting to think again, he saw Harry move and scared that he might notice his presence when turning around, Louis did the stupidest thing he could have done: he ran to hide in the living room.

Stupid, very stupid.

He could have waited for their eyes to meet and everything would have happened calmly and smoothly; but no, of course he had panicked and ran away.

Then the idea struck him as suddenly as thunder during a storm and he knew how he would make his presence known.

*

Harry was mechanically stirring his cup of hot tea and was about to stand up to do the dishes when he felt something fly above him and saw it land in front of his cup.

First surprise, the boy leaned forward and looked at the object carefully, thinking maybe it could be a spider or an unwanted insect. But it was a paper plane perfectly constructed, stained by a couple of inked words.

**« Came back yesterday evening. Hello, Haz. »**

The concerned's irises opened wide and he turned around, almost falling off of his stool.

Louis was there, in front of him, a light blush covering his cheeks and his eyes looking down at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing. He didn't look up immediately and during those short seconds, a million things went through Harry's head, wondering how Louis was going to react, if he would have to explain himself or give him explanations about what happened on Thursday evening.

Then, his blue eyes looked up slowly, finally meeting the green forest of his irises.

_ _Hey_ , Louis signed awkwardly.

A small smile crossed his features, and it was obvious he was trying his best to act relaxed, so Harry didn't comment on it.

__Hey, Louis._

__You okay?_

__Where were you_?, Harry attacked directly; he couldn't bear being ignored.

A sigh escaped the oldest's lips and he ran a hand through his hair, already tired by the turn the conversation had taken. He should have stayed in his room.

He took a few steps forward, and seeing the other boy was staring at him, he decided to plop down on a stool next to him.

__I went back to Doncaster, I needed to see my mum._

A few moments of silence, then:

_ _Okay_.

Louis' eyebrows furrowed and he blinked, surprised by his friend's reaction.

__That's it?_

__That's it what?_

_-No drama? No questions?_

__Why would I do that, Louis? You're a big boy, and I'm not your mother._

-Oh.

A heavy silence filled the room again, but they both knew their conversation wasn't over just yet; far from it.

And they needed to start somewhere, so Louis started signing again after a few minutes:

__About Thursday, you know, it's... I'm sorry, I needed to kiss someone and when I looked up you were looking at me so..._

He shrugged carelessly, unknowingly stabbing Harry's heart.

__I didn't really think about what I was doing, to be honest, and you didn't seem to be pushing me away..._

The oldest's words kept leaving his mouth with no filter, and Louis wasn't thinking about the consequences they could have on his friend. But he kept digging his hole.

__I didn't really want to kiss Lily, and you told me you were, you know... gay. So you didn't really mind, right?_

Harry's heart was burning. That kind of pain was new, and unbearable.

_ _Harry_?, Louis continued, seeing his friend stare at his hands absently.

He was hoping that would get him to react and it did; the youngest blinked a few times before looking up at Louis' face.

_ _You shouldn't have done that._

Surprised and lost for a moment, Louis needed a few seconds to understand the meaning of his words and he shook his hand.

__Shouldn't have done what?_

__Kiss me._

Louis' black pupils dilated with surprise but he tried masking the emotions he was feeling: had he not liked the kiss? Was he grossed out by him? Wasn't he a good kisser?

_ _Why_?, he still signed, pushing all his questions to the back of his head.

_ _Because it wasn't fair._

__Not fair?_

Louis was completely lost.

_ _Towards me._

He paused and bit his lip, then quickly added:

_ _And you_.

And it was at that moment that Louis lost track of his words. Was Harry not able to form full and meaningful sentences? Was that too much to ask from him?

Quickly, he grabbed their notepad and a black pen that was laying next to the coffee machine, well decided to make him understand what he had in mind.

**« Could you please stop talking in coded language? »**

A light laugh escape Harry's mouth and that hit the last straw for Louis, who closed his eyes in front of his friend's childish behaviour. His migraine was killing him.

However, the clear laugh quickly died in his throat and he noticed Harry was holding back tears.

**« I was saying you wouldn't have done that, usually. Louis wouldn't have done that. »**

To which he impulsively added:

**« And Louis would have understood before I had to explain everything to him. »**

Louis sighed and ran another hand across his face tiredly.

_ _That's it, stop, Harry._

__What?_

__Stop doing that; stop reproaching me for things I don't even remember._

__I never did that._

__Oh please! Who are you kidding?_

__No one._

__Stop, you're annoying me more than anything, if you have anything to tell me, tell me now._

__Louis!_

__Now!_

__Shut up!_

__What? Shit, all I wanted was to apologize but once again, you fucked everything up and now my head hurts!_

__It's not my fault!_

__Yes! Yes it is, Harry! Everything is your fault!_

And that sentence destroyed all the respect and hope Harry had kept towards his boyfriend, tears now brimming his eyes.

He had just confirmed it was his fault if he was unhappy: if he hadn't been so selfish and capricious, he wouldn't have asked Louis to get him sweet popcorn.

If Louis hadn't gone out to buy sweet popcorn, he would have never gotten into that car accident.

If that car accident hadn't happen, Louis wouldn't have lost his memories.

And if Louis hadn't lost his memories, then he would still be in love with Harry.

The fight had just erupted again; the subject wasn’t any different, things were just more violent this time around: Louis was yelling angrily, even though he knew Harry wasn't able to hear him.

He just couldn't help himself, he couldn’t contain his anger. He was a mess: why did this curly-haired boy refuse to understand?  
The latter then started signing hastily, so fast that the older one couldn’t understand anything but the word « Stop », repeated several times.

-What do you want me to stop, fucking hell Harry? he cursed out loud, because he knew the boy would be able to read on his lips. Can’t you understand that I can’t remember? It’s a blur! You’re a blurred face in my head; a shapeless face that I had never seen before I woke up in that goddamn hospital!

-Stop, murmured the youngest, his voice trembling.

A voice that sounded lower, more uncertain and weaker than the few times Louis had heard it before, a voice that took his breath away: the word had just escaped Harry’s pink and shiny lips,but it had been enough to make his friend go silent.

He turned his gaze and shook his head, holding back in his throat yells of rage and despair. He attempted to walk out of the room, but his legs suddenly felt like fabric, and his head hit the ground heavily.


	23. Last Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most intense 6600 words I’ve ever written... woah

The off white walls of the hospital were laughing at him; Harry was sure of it, they were mocking him. The feeling of déjà-vu was too strong, too present, too suffocating for him to breathe normally. His forehead was moist with sweat and his clothes stocked to his skin, and they suddenly felt way too hot and tight for the heavy atmosphere of the room.  
Ten minutes ago, someone had awkwardly signed for him to wait in the waiting room, but it felt like hours had gone by already: long hours during which he was dying to get news about his best friend, hours he had spent texting the boys and Lily to tell them to come to the hospital, hours that he spent stuck in that place while remembering the unbearable and painful vision of Louis laying on the floor.  
He had first thought he had slipped and hurt himself; but when the the boy's blue eyes had refused to open, Harry had panicked, starting to cry before he even touched the inert body in front of him. He had murmured his name a few times, shaking his shoulder harshly: a little more violently as the minutes went by. His whispers had become stronger, and interrupted by sobs.  
Louis hadn't reacted at all, and Harry had panicked even more when he realized he couldn't call an ambulance because he couldn't hear, couldn't speak.  
But it just wasn't possible for him not to do anything, it was impossible for him to wait until Louis woke up, it was simply impossible for him to abandon Louis. So he had taken his cellphone, typing the emergency number on his screen a few times because of the tears that blurred his vision. He hadn't waited before sticking the phone to his ear and he had muttered a few words, hoping that the person who had taken his call would understand him: 'help', 'accident', 'Louis', 'please', 'quick'.  
When he thought about it, he didn't know how the casualty department had found him; probably with he help of a highly perfected localisation system; but the loud sirens and the blue and red flashing lights had invaded the street less than seven minutes later.  
Seven minutes during which Harry hadn't stopped feeling the salted tears roll down his cheeks as he was clutching the unconscious body of his love, close to his chest.  
Two hands brought him back to reality, taking him away from his torturous memories, and circled his neck. He felt a face in his neck  and recognized his best friend's cherry smell and her longue blonde hair against his cheek. So he squeezed her tight, ruining her perfect curls with sobs he couldn't hold back anymore.  
A little further were Liam, Zayn and Niall, worry painted all over their tired faces: it was only nine in the morning, on a Saturday.  
Without a word, the three boys joined their embrace and soon, Harry was surrounded by arms that helped him calm down a little, reminding him that he wasn't alone and they were all there for him and Louis.

_ _Do you want me to call Johannah_?, Zayn asked when they stepped back.

__I already texted her; she said she was dropping the girls at the neighbor's and she would be there soon, but not before noon, at least._

__We'll stay with him_ , Liam begun with a smile. How is he?

_I don't know, the boy signed, looking down and biting his lip to keep himself from crying.

_You don't know?

_They told me to stay here, I don't know what's happening and no one wants to tell me anything; the nurses here can't even sign so they can't understand me.

-They don't know BSL?, Niall asked, surprised.

As reply, the boy shook his head and glanced once more at the double behind which they were taking care of Louis. It had already been half an hour since they took him.  
There was a silence; allowing everyone else in the building to see how united the five students were and how ready they were to face any obstacle together. It was a calm silence, in which they found comfort, without any words or actions.  
It let them the time to breathe and realize they were all there to support each other, and things would be okay.

_What happened?

Zayn had asked the question that they all wanted to ask, but didn't dare to. Harry's white teeth dug once again into his bottom lip.

_He came home yesterday evening, he finally signed, staring a something random in front of him. But I didn't know, he didn't talk to me before this morning, when he entered the kitchen. I asked him where he had fucked off to, and he was in Doncaster. Anyway, I held on, I didn't give up; even when I noticed the hickey in his neck and how tired he was, and then all of a sudden,-

_A hickey?, Liam cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

_I don't want to talk about that, the concerned sighed, pushing the image away from his mind and shaking his head.

He was now looking down at the floor with shame.

_However, he continued after a couple of a seconds, we got in a fight and he started yelling, screaming that I was giving him a headache and it was my fault if he was here now. Then he left.

The boy shook his head again and brushed his tears away with the back of his hand.

_I didn't see him immediately, because I couldn't hear him....

His misty eyes looked up to his friend, desolation and despair easily readable in his irises. The others were trying their best not to fall apart with him.

_I didn't hear him, he repeated, letting himself fall on his knees on the ground to bury his face between his fingers.

At that moment, Niall left the calm hallway and escaped the building; not because he was mad at Harry or was taking him responsible for what happened; just because the pression and the distress that emanated from his friend were too strong and he didn't want to start crying in front of him.  
So he ran outside, under the rain that hasn't stopped, and hid under the parking canopy and sitting down on an empty bench to cry freely.

*

It was half eleven when one of the doctors of the medical staff finally gave them some attention.

-Um, are there people here for... Louis Tomlinson?, he called, glancing at his notepad carelessly.

-Yes!, Lily and Zayn answered at the same time, standing up immediately.

Harry had also stood up, reading on the question on the intern's lips.

-Could you all please follow me?

\- Is he okay?

-I'll answer your questions in my office; this way, please.

Liam's eyebrows furrowed in front of so much indifference but he still followed his friends and soon enough, they had all answered the tiny room that smelled like boredom and monotony.

*

Liam had taken the sofa next to the hospital bed, the one Harry had refused to sit on when they had entered the room twenty minutes ago.  
It looked way too familiar to his nightmares, to those flashbacks that ruined his life on a daily basis, the ones he tried his best to forget about, the ones he constantly tried to convince himself didn't exist.  
But he had been wrong, karma had caught up with him. He was here again, in the same goddamn white room, and to be completely honest with himself, he didn't have the strength anymore.  
One time was enough, but that was situation was the last straw, it was too much: way to much to handle for a nineteen year old boy.  
It's for that reason that he had preferred to isolate himself in a corner of the room, sitting down on the white and fresh tiling, half curled up on himself like a newborn. The doctor's words were still playing in his head demonically and the more he thought about them, the more he wanted to run away, to leave far from this, to abandon him because nothing was holding him back anymore.

« His head hit the floor violently, he suffered another cerebral commotion, lighter than the previous one, but considering his medical history; there are strong chances that Mr. Tomlinson might not ever recover the memories he had lost. »

He was probably going to wake up soon, because it was a common trauma and he wasn't too badly injured ; but he wouldn't remember.

« Might not ever recover the memories he had lost. »

Never.  
He would never remember their first kiss or they first date; he would never remember the silver bracelet Harry had bought him, then hidden with all of their pictures and objects that could have helped him remember.

« Might not ever recover the memories he had lost. »

He would never remember the first matching tattoo they had decided to get together; nor would he remember all those Sunday afternoons they had spent together on their couch, buried under a ton of a blankets, watching stupid cooking or fashion shows.  
There's a saying that goes 'what doesn't kill makes us stronger', and it insinuates that fate is a great provider, but fate doesn't exist, there's only the fatality of destiny.  
That was what harry had won, what fatality had prepared for him; his destiny had been traced since the day he was born: he was destined to give, to give all the love he never had, more than it was reasonable, he was destined to fall in love with Louis more than he thought was possible, and to constantly go higher until he eventually fell violently, as if his plane had crashed.

And he had just crashed on the ground, for the second time.

He was there, in that hospital room, in pieces in front of the man he loved but would never get to hold in his arms ever again, because he wouldn't be able to remember all the memories he had previously lost.  
Once again, the conversation they had had played in his head, and it was too much; he stood up hurriedly and signed that he needed to be alone, so quickly his friends barely understood what he wanted to say. But none of the four other students tried holding him back, seeing Louis laying in the white bed in front of them was already so hard for them, so they couldn't imagine what Harry was going through.

The boy ran down the stars to the main floor and headed to the cafeteria; he wasn't hungry or extremely thirsty, but the place was pretty much empty at this time of the day.  
And he needed to be alone to think; think about what he was going to do now that there was no hope left.  
Louis had confirmed it that morning; it was indeed his fault if he was here, if he had destroyed his happiness; so now, nothing seemed like a good or viable option for him, nothing perfect could happen, the stars had stopped shining.  
Whatever he did now, he was sure he was going to suffer.   
Some might say it is sometimes good to suffer from love; but that is not the kind of pain Harry suffered from. This one was almost ridiculous compared to what Harry was feeling. It's the pain that comes with being apart for a few days, the one of a fight that was a bit too intense. But he could get over that pain, he could hold on to the idea that things would eventually be okay.

But this pain was different, it ripped his heart out of his chest violently, buried a dagger in his chest to make him scream in pain. The pain paralyzed ever muscle in his body, burning his soul slowly.

This pain made him feel like something had died inside of him.

He had been feeling for a little over seven weeks, three days, thirteen hours and four minutes; since the phone call he had received on January court, at six past ten.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling the tears starting to well up in his eyes and the strangled sobs in his throat. He felt exhausted, and had no tears left to cry.

« Might not ever recover the memories he had lost. »

That meant he would have to wait until Louis' eyelashes fluttered opened to be disappointed, to relive everything again and be miserable in front of a man who wouldn't remember him.

And that was unbearable.

The flow of his thoughts lit up when he understood were his reasoning was leading him and he wanted to collapse: he didn't want to see that his Louis had forgotten him: he didn't want to have to relive the same moment that already broke up the first time.   
So no matter how much Louis meant to him, he knew in this moment he wasn't mentally strong enough to witness another rejection from the man he was in love with.  
Having to face his curious looks or his indifferent ones, that was too much to ask from him.

*

When he came back into the room a few hours later, Johannah had already arrived, she had taken Liam's place next to the bed and looked like she was going to fall apart. His hands were trembling and clutched her son's and her pinched lips showed she was trying her best not to cry.  
Lily stood up when seeing her best friend enter the room, smiling at him gently; and before anyone could even move, she had already made him leave the room so they could talk calmly.

_Are you okay?, she asked, noticing Harry's light green eyes were completely red.

-It's over, Lil.

_What's over, babycakes?

He didn't reply, but Lily knew the sentence was mostly rhetorical; that's why she still continued:

_Of course it's not over! He's still in love with you, you know that, right? He loves you, Harry, even if he doesn't realize it.

_Obviously! And that's why he came home yesterday with a hickey on his neck.

Lily didn't reply anything, not quite understanding. Then, she remembered their conversation they had earlier this morning and she shook her head.

_I know he was with someone last night, Lily, and I know that someone was a girl: not a boy, not me, a girl. Because Louis likes girls.

_Stop talking nonsense!, she retorted, hitting his shoulder.

_Lily, don't try being all positive, you were there this morning, you heard the doctor.

_That doesn't mean anything, he said « might »!

_And he said the same thing last time too! He had said Louis was probably going to remember, and things would go back to normal: but see where we are now! He remembered a lot of stuff, yes; but Lily, he didn't remember shit about me, not even when he saw a picture, not even when he found my letter,...

He paused for a little while, biting his lips and fluttering his eyelashes to make the tears go away.

_Not even when he kissed me...

_It can take a while, sometimes?

_But I don't have enough strength to wait for that to happen; I can't wait for him to come home one night with a girl; I can't watch him introduce us to his girlfriend, tell us that he's engaged and that he wants me to be his best man because I'm his best friend. I can't do that, I'm not strong enough, Lil.

-Harry...

_I'm just not strong enough anymore.

And with that last sentence, he burst in tears, his legs weak under him. He fell on his knees for the second time and buried his face in his hands to hide his distress.

-Harry, Lily murmured again, letting herself fall down next to him.

*

They came back almost an hour later, once the youngest calmed down from his breakdown. His best friend had accompanied him to the bathroom so he could put some water on his face and freshen up.   
The clock showed 5:10pm, but everything still felt the same, nothing in the room had changed. This time, Johannah stood up when she saw him, and she took him in her arms as soon as he approached her. Harry closed his arms around her and hugged her back. They were probably as broken as each other.

_Thank you for everything you've done for him, she signed as soon as they parted.

_I didn't do anything.

He had replied while avoiding any sort of eye contact, because it couldn't look into her eyes and see the reflection of everything going on in his head: all the pain that was buried inside of himself and that he was trying to hide.  
She shook her head, but didn't add anything, knowing how the other boy would react. She knew that at this point, trying to get him to say something positive about himself was almost impossible, he was stubborn and wouldn't change his mind.  
His mind was made, and he felt nauseous about the choices he had made. He tried smiling weakly, but his smile quickly turned into a frown, but still asked:

_Could I please be alone with him for a few minutes, please?

Again, Johannah didn't reply anything but nodded, hugging him again before telling everyone she was offering everyone whatever they wanted from the cafeteria; leaving enough time for the boy to spend a few minutes with her son.

*

Harry sat down on the sofa he had refused to sit on earlier as soon as the door closed. It was already dark in the city, and he couldn't see very far behind the hospital windows. The atmosphere was heavy.

_Hey, Lou, he signed awkwardly.

He already felt like a complete idiot and for one of the first times in his life, he hated his disability.  
Why couldn't he simply speak like anyone else?  
Why wasn't being deaf enough; it was also extremely difficult for him to talk.

_I don't know if what they say is true, he still continued; because he needed to talk to Louis. I don't know if you can still see and hear; you know, like in some movies we used to watch together.

He looked down as his shoes, suddenly finding the white fabric interesting to look at.

_I hope that's the case.

He bit his lips and grabbed the fingers of the boy in front of him, linking them with his just so he could feel that spark that lit up every time their skin touched. A sparkly flame that ran through his entire body, making him shiver in pleasure.

-You know, he continued after a moment; I don't know if I could ever classify our relationship as a disaster, or a fiasco.

He smiled weakly, which allowed him to chase a few tears away from his cheekbones.

_Maybe neither of those, actually, because if I think about it, we won. I won; didn't I? I lived with you for more time than I would've imagined, and I didn't think I would ever feel that with anyone; you managed to make my heart vibrate, to open my eyes, make me understand it wasn't that difficult to love someone, but the most important thing is to find someone worth loving.

He shook his head and pinched his lips, letting out a sad laugh.

-Louis, he felt his voice say, in a tone he had never felt before; raspy, weak and exhausted.

A tone they scared him; he had already felt his voice, he knew it trembled whenever he tried to speak, he knew it wasn't always strong and he couldn't speak long sentences; but he had never felt it that broken and ugly.

_You were that someone.

A sob intensified in the boy's throat and he moved closer to the bed, closing his eyes to hide the vision of the boy he loved the most laid on a white hospital bed.

_You were my someone, Boo; my essential; then one I would have brought the moon back for, the one I would've done anything for.

His sentences were cheesy, but he didn't care; right now, he didn't care because he was about to say goodbye to the love of his life.

_I'm sorry, he signed, bursting into tears immediately, burying his face in the bedsheets.

The shivers that shook him whole made his mind uncontrollable and he couldn't help but wonder if his decision was the good one. Did he need to leave? He looked up to watch his boyfriend's asleep face and frowned, remembering his blue irises; the silver tint they took whenever Louis was frustrated or the azure one they took when there was good weather. He remembered every shade the blue of his eyes could take.  
That's what comforted him int he idea that he needed to do it; he couldn't live next to Louis, his Louis, if he didn't know who he was.

The story was repeating itself; didn't it end at some point?

Of course, he could try again, tell him they were dating, but that wouldn't have the same effect: the memories were gone, everything that they had lived together had disappeared, forgotten forever; so why should he try to act as if nothing happened and move on when a huge gap separated them?

Harry on one side, Louis on the other.

The bridge that linked them together had been broken on the day the accident happened, and all their attempts to cross the gap had been with no luck so far, only making things harder.

-I'm sorry for being weak, the boy murmured, trying once more to use his voice.

_A french writer once said that heroes have our language, our weaknesses and strengths. Their universe isn't prettier, or greater than ours. But at least, they fight to face their destiny.

He stopped signed to run a hand through his brown curls, looking away to stare into the window. There was nothing but darkness in front of him.

_I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to face my destiny; I'm sorry I can't be your hero, Louis.

And with those last few signs, he stood up, sniffling, and took a piece of paper of out his pocket. He had been carrying it since his little trip to the cafeteria earlier that morning; a piece of paper on which he had written down everything that was on his mind.  
He put it on the bedside table, next to the lamp that was currently shut, right between a mobile phone and the nurse button.  
Then he turned to his lover's bed, and he grabbed Louis' hand in the darkness to squeeze it in one last time in his.  
His fingers felt so cold and tiny compared to his, but he knew that was a false impression his brain was sending him, because Louis' heart was still beating.  
But just in case, Harry leaned down, softly placing his lips on his best friend's forehead, his eyes closing.   
The magic ended when he sat up straight, leaving him with a million different emotions.   
So, because he knew he would never get to do it again, he leaned forward again and put his lips against the other boy's.

-I love you, Louis William Tomlinson, he murmured in his ear, a single tear falling onto the oldest's cheekbone.

Then he turned around and walked away, not able to stand goodbyes. He grabbed the handle, holding back a hiccup that forced him to bite his tongue.

-Haz?, a weak and sleepy voice murmured as soon as he slammed the door shut.

*

Harry's kiss had been his way to say everything on his mind silently, his kiss had been like the klaxon of car when it leaves home, one last gesture, one last attention towards to ones we love, one last look to memorize  their features, their smiles through the tears.  
Harry wasn't a hero: he was no Superman, he didn't have a Batmobile, he didn't turn into a radioactive spider and didn't have a sword; he didn't have Thor's sledgehammer or Captain America's magical shield. He was just Harry.  
And by being just Harry, he wouldn't suddenly arrive on a white horse to save Louis.

Harry's armor was broken, stained with mud.

But a knight with a shining armor is a knight that never lost a fight but never fought. Harry had been fighting since the day he was born; he fought when he was two years old and the doctors announced to his parents that he'd never be able to walk. He fought when he was five and doctors figured he'd probably never talk. He fought every second of his life to be where he was today; he had fought for Louis, for the love of his life.

So in the end, maybe that's what he deserved: a kiss.

A kiss for all the fights, the victories and defeats he had experience; a kiss to help him not give up.  
A kiss that, even in real life, could wake up a person who was asleep.

*

One hour and a half had gone by since Johannah, Lily and the boys had gone to the cafeteria to have dinner, and as visiting hours were almost up, they had decided to go back up to Louis' room before leaving. This time, Johannah hadn't gotten an autorisation to sleep in her son's room, because his life wasn't on the line.  
The room was calm when they entered it and after a couple seconds of fumbling, Liam finally turned the switch on, blinding everyone temporarily.

-Fucking hell, turn the light off, a tired voice complained.

A voice that everyone immediately recognized and immediately, all eyes were on the hospital, where a brown haired boy was frowning and burying his face in the pillow.

-Louis!, his mum exclaimed, being the first one to react. Louis; my baby! Are you okay?

-Ugh, you just took the last piece of dignity I had left by calling me your baby...

-Where's the rest of it?, Zayn chuckled , glad to see his friend was awake enough to joke around.

-Gone as soon they dressed me with that horrible hospital dress- mum, I can't breathe!

The woman was so happy to be able to hold her son between her arms that she hadn't realized maybe she was squeezing him a little too hard. Amused, she let go of him, dropping a kiss on his forehead and brushing his hair away from it, grabbing his hands to make sure he wasn't going anywhere.

-You remember us, right?, Niall timidly asked.

-Of course, why would I-

And he stopped suddenly. He frowned when he realized what had happened, making him feel dizzy all of a sudden.

-I...

Of course he remembered them; he remembered Niall and the water bombs they had thrown into Michael's room the day before his accident. Before his accident, which meant before he woke up and before his temporary amnesia.

\- I remember... holy shit, I can remember!

He remembered Liam and the quirky gift he had gotten him for Christmas. Christmas was before his accident, before his amnesia, so did that mean it was all over?

\- Mum I remember! I remember, I-

His voice was high and excited, almost childish. He remembered watching the Lord of the Rings with Zayn, he remembered talking with Lily about her feelings for Jason. He remembered Harry; Harry who-

-Mum, he murmured immediately, feeling his euphoria fall down, because he wasn't in the room. Mum, where is Harry?

Johannah spinned around herself, also looking for the curly haired boy who she thought would still be here, a mask of incomprehension painted on her features when she didn't find him.

-Um, I dont know; he asked to stay with you while we had dinner and I thought he'd still be here.

-I'm gonna look downstairs, he probably went down when we went back up, Liam smiled, who left the room immediately, Zayn following him closely.

Relieved, Louis nodded and brought his attention back to his friends who still couldn't believe what was happening.

-Have you been awake for a while?, Johannah asked, trying to contain the joy that was exploding in every cell of her body. She wanted nothing but to hug him forever.

-I'd say like, five minutes before you guys arrived; I thought- wow, everything is messy in my head, I can't believe that i... I remember, I can see everything; uni, the holidays, the parties,...

-So you really remember?, Lily asked, who ha sat down on a chair next to the door, a huge smile breaking her face.

-I think so, yeah; I remember the accident and when I woke up, when I-

Again, his voice became silent and his calm face turned into a worried frown, which only managed to worry his mum.

-I didn't remember who Harry was and you told me he was my best friend, nothing more.

-It was his idea, his mum sighed softly, kissing his temple. He didn't want to hurt you, make you angry or get you to hate him.

-I could never hate Harry.

Niall smiled softly and shook his head.

-We know that, but your guy is pretty stubborn, didn't you know?

Laughter filled the silence and Louis let himself fall back onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

-How's your head?, his mum enquired again.

-Been better, I'll say, don't they have painkillers here?

-Glad to see sarcastic Louis is back, Louis mocked gently, sticking her tongue out at her friend.

The latter turned on his side, wanting to call a doctor or a nurse to ask for some painkillers. But before he could press the call button, his noticed a folded piece of paper next to it. His name was written on it.

« Louis. »

The handwriting was fine and pretty, and the curve of the capital L was easily recognizable: Harry.  
He immediately grabbed it, sitting up straight in front of his surprised friends, who hadn't noticed the piece of paper earlier.

-What is it, Lily asked as he unfolded it.

-It's from Harry.

And that's the only reply he gave before busying himself with reading the note that was addressed to him, his eyebrows furrowing as he did so.  
After a few seconds, his heart started beating wildly as the lines went on, and his hands started shaking.  
The words had obviously been chosen with special care not to hurt him, but Louis realized that no matter how they could have announced it to him, the pain would have been the same, piercing right through him.

-Lou?, Niall's worried voice whispered as he heard the heart monitor go crazy.

-Louis?, Johannah asked at the same time when she saw her son start crying. My baby, what's happening?

Tears were quickly rolling down his eyes onto his cheeks as he read the last few lines and he clench his fist brutally, crumpling the paper.

-Louis?

At that moment, the door opened again and Liam and Zayn came in, out of breath and anxious, their eyes quickly scanning the room.

-He wasn't downstairs, Zayn announced while biting his lip. We asked the cleaner, but she's sure she hasn't seen a-

-Louis!, Liam exclaimed, interrupting his friend. What's happening?

-He- he's gone.

Those were the only three words he managed to weakly stutter before bursting into tears with no warning, burying his head in his hands, dropping the crumpled piece of paper that fell on the ground.

-What do you mean he's gone?, Lily asked, standing up.

Zayn was the quickest and picked up the note, reading it quickly before dropping it too and turning around, horror painted on his face.

-What?, Liam asked, starting to fear something bad had happened. What's going on, for fucks sake?

He had spoken with a trembling voice, and he had sworn, something he never did.

-Come on, Zayn!, Lily said too, not wanting to see her friends suffer any longer.

Louis was hugging his mum tightly, hiding from the world and full on sobbing.  
And none of them had ever seen him cry; Louis was a funny and happy guy, he was always smiling and full of life, his good mood always contagious.

-He's leaving, he said he was packing his suitcase and taking a plane.

-Where?

-Tonight; he didn't say anything more.

-Where?

-He didn't say.

-For how long?

-He didn't say.

-Which airport?

-He didn't fucking say; did you expect him to write all the exact details of his flight?!, Zayn yelled, not able to calm down either.

But he wasn't angry, he wasn't angry at anyone; he was simply taken aback: one of his best friends was leaving without even knowing that the reason for his escape wasn't valid anymore, because Louis was there, Louis remembered; his Louis.

-Why?, Niall murmured, feeling the heavy atmosphere around them suffocating them slowly.

-Because he thinks I'm never going to remember and he doesn't want him or any piece of our past to be an obstacle in my life.

Louis' voice was slightly strangled because of his crying; but everyone had perfectly understood what he had said.

-But that's completely stupid!, Liam screamed, taking his cellphone out of his pocked in a controlled movement.

« To Harry: Man, what are you doing? Get your ass back to the hospital, Louis' awake! »

« To Harry: he remembers! »

Only two minutes went by with no response and no one spoke, everyone growing antsy and impatient. Lily started texting Harry too.

« To Harry: Answer, it's not funny. »

« To Harry: He remembers, he's awake! You're the one he wants to see. »

« To Harry: Harry! You're not allowed to take a plane and fuck off somewhere, do you hear me? »

Two more painful minutes went by and Zayn decided to try to; bringing his phone to his ear, surprising all the other, who were trying to understand what he was doing. They quickly understood that he was trying to make sure Harry had read their texts, but apparently he had turned his phone off, because it went straight to voicemail.

-His phone's shut.

-I need to go, Louis decided suddenly, wiping his tears with anger and determination.

-Go?

-I need to go back to the flat and tell him that I remember, that I don't want him to go and that-

But when he laid a foot on the ground, he suddenly felt so dizzy that he couldn't stand and had to rest against the wall. But his mum pushed him back on the bed:

-You're not going anywhere right now, she announced immediately; you can't even stand up, Louis;

-But mum, you don't understand, Harry's going to-

-I'll go, Niall declared, grabbing his jacket. I'll go, and I'll bring him back to you before he even has the time to step into that goddamn airport.

-Promise?

There was a short silence, during which Niall closed his hand around the handle, making his knuckles turn white, and he looked down.

-I hope so, he murmured softly, disappearing into the hallway.

*

Five minutes went by without a sound, with no news.  
Ten minutes.  
Eleven minutes that felt like years, centuries, with no escape but patience. And Louis waited, his eyes scanning the room as if the fine and angelic face of the boy he loved was going to miraculously appear.  
But miracles didn't exist.  
So Louis kept scanning the room with his blue eyes, his hands clenched.  
Twelve minutes.  
And after the thirteenth, a light knock on the door made everyone in the room jump, a flicker of hope burning in their eyes. A flicker that quickly disappeared when they noticed the forty-year-old doctor in front of them.

-Oh, he apologized, visiting hours ended fifteen minutes ago, I didn't think I'd find you- but you're awake!

No one replied in front of so much joy and cheerfulness; now wasn't a good time. The doctor noticed his patient's cheeks, that were stained with tears, and his face that was buried in Johannah's neck.

-I can maybe come back la-

-It's your fault!, Louis exploded, careful not to hurt his mother.

-Excuse me?

-It's your fault!, he continued, shooting daggers at him through his eyes. His eyes were full of hatred and venom.

-Louis!, Jay immediately exclaimed, jumping at his impolite language.

There was a short silence, but after a few seconds, the quietness of the room was broken again:

-I have to leave, the boy announced, managing to speak in a relatively calm tone.  
-I'm sorry?

The doctor seemed completely lost in front of so many mood swings and so many pair of eyes digging into his back.

-I have to leave, Louis repeated with more conviction, a little louder. You have to allow me to leave so I can find Harry!

-You can't leave, Mr. Tomlinson, he stuttered, uncomfortable.

-You need to make me leave, I need to leave this bloody hospital!

-Louis!

But he didn't care about his mum scolding him; he didn't care about the doctor's protestations, he didn't care about being polite or being able to stand up, he wanted to leave, run, it didn't matter if it was raining now, he just wanted to run home, or to the airport if that was where Harry was.  
He wanted to keep him from doing a mistake and scream that he remembered him; that he loved him.

-You hit your head, Mr. Tomlinson, and even though the shock was pretty light this time, there could be complications. I can't let you leave this hospital before two or three days, just so we can make sure everything is okay.

-I'm perfectly fine!

-Maybe, but you can't-

-I don't give a damn if I can or cannot; I'm telling you I won't spend one more second in this hos-

The loud ringtone of Zayn's phone interrupted him.

-It's Niall.

-Phones aren't allo-, the poor doctor started, not sure how to react anymore.

-Oh piss off, Louis sighed.

He was staring at his friend with hopeful eyes, as if his life depended on the words he was going to say.  
Johannah didn't even bother to scold her son, she was also focused on Zayn, who had taken a few steps back to listen to his friend.  
He nodded a few times, not showing any emotions and that's when everyone knew his face could only mean one thing.  
It was already too late, it was too late, Niall had arrived too late.

-Louis, Zayn murmured one he hung up, avoiding his friend's gaz.

It wouldn't been nice to tell the boy was still at the flat when Niall arrived, it would've been nice to say Harry came back to the hospital in the next following minutes to go back to Louis, but then the story would have never ended.

-No.

The word was as brutal as a bullet against his skin, it was stern. But Louis' voice was was off, pained, broken.

-There was no one at the flat, Lou; he had packed his bags and...

-No, he repeated, cutting Zayn off.

However, this time, the word sounded more like a prayer, a supplication, one last request to find peace, to change the situation.

-Louis, I...

But the older boy didn't leave him the time to finish, letting out a desperate scream and he collapsed onto his bed so suddenly that everyone thought he had fainted again.  
But no; he hadn't fainted, his entire body was shaking and his muscles were sore; Louis was simply sad, miserable.

He had just lost Harry; his Harry.


	24. Louis.

The most painful goodbyes are the ones that have never been said or explained, so I want you to get this note. Excuse me, I don't have any pretty fountain pen, famous sayings or a pretty envelope, so this is all I could find in an empty cafeteria at eleven in the morning.

To be honest, I've already darkened three white sheets that I then threw in the bin because I wasn't making any sense.  
I imagined this letter, its content, the terms I was going to use; but here I am, three drafts later, with words that don't even come out in the right order. Sorry, I'm going to try again.

Louis.

I don't want to be a weight you carry behind you because you have to; because you woke up one day in the hospital and someone told you this curly haired boy in front of the bed, the deaf one, was your best friend.

I don't want to be that someone that bothers you, that constantly reminds you that you forget four years of memories because of him, because of his selfish and capricious being who asked you to go buy him a bag of sweet popcorn that night.

If I was given the opportunity to go back in time, I think I would change a lot of thing.

First of all, I would stop being so sensible, I would stop that stupid habit I have to cry for no reason, I know it's annoying.

I would also stop you from getting in that car to drive to the shop, I would stop the storm from exploding when you're afraid, when you're alone or not home yet; I don't know how I would do it, but I would. I would, because I owe you that.

However, there is one thing I am sure I would never want to change: if I had to redo everything, if my life started again tomorrow and I woke up being thirteen, sixteen or any other age, I want to have the chance to meet you again.

I'm aware that is a very selfish exigence from me, considering I am partly responsible for what's happening to you today, but I can't help it.

If selfishness is the word that describes this request as well as my behavior, then yes; I am selfish.

I would never be able to think otherwise because before I met you, Louis, I didn't know how it felt to look at someone and smile stupidly, for no reason; you taught me that, and now I know. I know only one of your smiles is enough to make the bad vibes, the nightmares or my fears disappear. I know one of your smiles is enough to make the Earth stop spinning, enough to stop the effects of gravity on me. And I always end up gravitating around you whenever that happens.

You're probably thinking what I'm saying is weird, and I'm sorry. But sometimes, the mind takes longer to understand what the heart already knows and it is true that it took me a while to realize that I was in love with you, Louis Tomlinson.

I don't love you as in « I love you, you're my best friend ». I truly love you, Lou, and if infinite love asks for me to love you without anything in return; then that's how I love you.

I'm sorry, I'm sure you're probably flipping out while reading this, but it wasn't my intention.

Some people make us laugh a little harder, make our smiles a little more genuine and make our lives a little better. You were that kind of person; my person, that was you; it has always been you and I guess it will be you forever.

I am no gay, nor am I bisexual, god, I'm definitely not straight.  
I'm « just Louis ».

And by being « just louis », I love you like in the big American movies, like in the true fairytales where the two main characters end up living 'happily ever after'. I love you with a love that's unexplainable, impossible to note on a scale from 1 to 100 for the simple reason that it wouldn't fit.

Don't be mistaken; I'm not writing you a love letter- even if I just re-read myself and realized it pretty much looks like one.

I know our world is no utopia, and we won't ever have our 'happy end' because you don't love me like I do, life is a bitch and all the fairytales tell the story of a man and a woman.

You know, they should write books where two books can love each other forever; I think it would open a few minds, and would allow me to dream a little longer.

However, I am not writing this for you to pity me, I have accepted the idea of loving you without hoping for anything in return. It doesn't hurt that bad, in the end, I suppose you learn to live with the pain like a blind person learns to live without eyes and like I learnt to live without hearing.

People often say that spending your life regretting a lost lover proves that you really loved, truly, unconditionally, and that your existence hasn't been vain.

So you see, I'm not one to cry for; I even managed to smile while writing you this letter, or a bit, at least.

I managed to book a ticket for a flight that leaves tonight- or yesterday evening; depending on the time you'll wake up and find this note.

I don't want you to blame yourself for anything; nothing is your fault, Louis. I'm leaving because I need to, and I want you to be happy. Take care, Boo.

Yours forever,

Harry.

PS: Tell your mum, Lily and the boys I'm sorry; I thought it would be better if I didn't tell them about this and I hope they're not mad at me. Tell them goodbye for me.

Thank you, Louis Tomlinson.


	25. Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andddd it’s over! thank you for reading :)
> 
> (would you like me to write a little extra chapter about their life after they found each other? lmk)

**« Our parachute has suffered and I think it's time for us to stop falling. »**

***

The speakers were announcing new flights one after another ; New York, Tokyo, Berlin, Montreal, Sao Paulo. Harry was looking at the board absently: his destination hadn't been announced yet, even though his ticket clearly showed 8:16pm.  
The two handles of his watch that were slowly turning passed five past eight, making him understand his flight was probably going to be delayed. At the same moment, « Paris » suddenly appeared on the top of the giant screen, right next to a red sign showing there would be a forty minute delay on that line.  
So the boy stood up, temporarily abandoning his jacket on the grey bench on which he had been sat for almost an hour, standing in front of the picture window behind him, the one that occupied the whole West side of the airport.  
The stars were shining in the dark night, similar to luminous sparks he remembered having seen in the eyes of the boy he was trying to escape from.  
That thought constricted his torso before he had the time to realize it, and he case it away quickly, trying to focus his attention on the airplanes outside. They were far away, shooting off from the runway as easily as birds; but it was difficult, it was difficult to think about anything else because every detail of the night reminded him about Louis' fine and dedicated features.  
A brown curl fell into front of his green eyes, blocking his sight and he sighed, trying to make it fly back to the side of his head, with no luck. So he ran a hand through his curls and brushed them back under the beanie he was wearing, quickly glancing around him.  
The travelers' quick and colorful movements made him feel a tiny bit nauseous and he preferred walking away from the crown, turning around to grab his jacket and leave. He wasn't scared of masses, but right now, the feeling of not being able to breathe was unbearable ; his breath was hitched and he was feeling even worse.  
It was maybe partly due to the decisions he had just taken, maybe it was because of what he was going to do, because of that plane he was about to step in and that would take him far away from London, far from his friend, far from Louis.

Louis.

The name resonated in his head and he had to rest against a wall to let himself fall down to his knees and bury his head between his knees. He took a deep breath a closed his eyes, trying to erase his best friend's face or anything related to his life here from his memory.  
And he managed to, after about fifteen minutes and a few breathing exercises that helped him calm down.  
So he stood up again, avoiding to look around him or meet eyes with anyone: he didn't want to start dreaming by imagining things that didn't exist and were going to drive him crazy.  
His feet led up unconsciously to the boarding room number four and he stopped in front of the security gates, aware he couldn't go much further without a valid boarding card. But he didn't know in which hall he needed to go, for the simple reason that his flight had been delayed by another twenty minutes.  
So he turned around and noticed a small restaurant/fast food on his right, in the corner next to the escalators; a place that didn't seem to crowded because of where it had been placed. Slightly relieved, Harry headed to the counter with the intention of buying a muffin, but the piercing irises that looked up to him took his breath away instantly.

Her eyes were blue; all kinds of blue.

And the mix of all these shades reminded him of Louis' perfect blue eyes.

Louis.  
Again.

-Are you alright?, the girl asked, worried.

She hadn't signed, but Harry had understood. So he nodded and tried smiling fakely.

-Yes, he muterred, incertain before turning around without having bought anything.

He was unable to look her in the yes any longer. He really needed to stop. His decision had been made, and it was too late to turn back, go back to the hospital and hide the letter. What would he gain from doing that?

Nothing.

It wouldn't bring him anything.  
Nothing more than a lot more pain, that he wasn't able to live with anymore.

So he stopped walking, his head hanging low, his shoes stepping on each other, and he considered the idea of locking himself in the toilets for the next fifteen minutes.   
After that, the boarding hallway would be announced and he could actually board the plane, he could find his seat and would finally be allowed to close his eyes as the engine would take him far away from his home.  
At the same time, the flow of men, women, passengers, employees buzzed around him, some bumping into his side as if he was invisible. He was walking in circles, scooting through the airport like a lost child, but no one paid any attention to him.  
And through the pass of people in front of him, one silhouette in particular caught his attention. Not because it was taller, larger or darker, no, it caught the boy's attention because it was moving even faster than all the other ones, the arms of the boy moving in the air quickly.  
He had his back turned to Harry, wore tight black jeans and suddenly took a few steps back to look up at the boarding screen.

Staring at the scene with more interest, Harry noticed the boy was getting angry and security agents, and the way his muscles showed through his red and white t-shirt.

And again; he was back at the beginning. He was suffering so much because of Louis' absence that he was starting to see him everywhere. That stranger in front of him looked like louis; the man next to the window looked like Louis, the boy on his right looked like Louis, and even the security agent next to the gates looked like Louis.

He saw Louis everywhere; Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Lo-

A shock against his shoulder sent him hurling to the ground and he fell face first, luckily managing to place his hands in front of him to avoid hurting his head.  
The woman that had accidentally knocked him over seemed sorry and hurried to offer her arm to him, profusely apologizing as she did so.

_ _It was my fault sorry_ , he signed, because that was the truth. I wasn't looking.

The woman looked lost in front of so many movements but eventually understood that he was deaf and asked him, articulating more than necessary, if he hadn't hurt himself.

_ _I'm okay_ , he smiled softly, nodding as he signed, because he figured she didn't understand BSL.

-Mum, the little girl with her whispered. Why doesn't the boy talk?

Extremely embarrassed, the mum scolded her daughter and started apologizing again, then quickly walking away with one last sorry look towards Harry.

He stopped to take a look at where he was and turned around to check the spot where he had thought he'd seen Louis.  
But there was no one: the place was now empty and there was no sign of some boy with black jeans and a red t-shirt.  
His brain was probably playing with him, he was sure; he should've booked tickets to an asylum, no to the Eiffel Tower. That would have been more fair, because having hallucinations in public wasn't safe.

However, his eyes met the display board again and he noticed with relief that his plane had arrived and he could board soon. So he walked over to the line that had started to form and closed his eyes softly to relax.  
His self-control came back quickly and after a few seconds, he reopened his eyes, adjusting his eyes to the bright lights before mechanically turning his head to the right.

And there, coming out of nowhere, the vision that was offered to him made him freeze.

He was there again, the boy from earlier, his imaginary Louis with the black jeans and red pants.

He was there again, but this time, he wasn't arguing with anyone; he was running, yes, he was running right in Harry's direction.  
And even though he knew he was in the way, Harry couldn't get himself to move or take a step back; his body was frozen and wouldn't do anything to avoid the impact. It was too much to ask from him because as the boy was running towards him and his features were becoming clearer, Harry realized he looked exactly like Louis.  
The same ocean eyes, the same pink and thin lips, the same cheeks reddened by the effort; the same messy brown hair.  
It wasn't only puzzling, it seemed completely impossible. But seeing him get closer, Harry was almost sure he could recognize the rope tattoo that decorated his wrist.  
But something wasn't right: it wasn't possible, it couldn't be Louis, for the sole reason that Louis was still asleep in a hospital bed. Louis was miles away from here, and he didn't remember him.

And what would he be doing here anyway; in this airport, right after he hit his head? He probably needed to go warn his girlfriend instead, to reassure her about his accident.  
There; that was what he needed to focus on: Louis had a girlfriend.  
All these sentences were spinning in his head as the boy in front of him kept getting closer. He was really going to end up hurting Harry, who still didn't want to move away.

But the impact wasn't as though, as brutal as what Harry had imagine; it even felt surprisingly pleasant.

And if the impact felt pleasant, it was because he hadn't ended up on the ground, just lost his balance a bit, but he was still standing. He was still standing and the boy that was running was now in his arms; he had wrapped his hands behind his back and his face in the crook of his neck.  
Why was he in his arms? Why was he holding on to him so hard? Why were-

Realization hit him as the smell of patchouli and lemon filled his nostrils, transporting him to another world: the hands in his back weren't strangers anymore, they were real; the face in his neck wasn't a hallucination, and this wasn't one of his dreams.

Louis was there; in his arms. His Louis.

His Louis.

At that thought, the boy's body relaxed and he finally reacted: his arms moved along his friend's spine, gripping the fabric harshly, holding on to him as if he was scared to see him leave suddenly.  
But Louis was really here and he wasn't going anywhere. The salted tears that wet the youngest's jacket proved it: Louis was here and he was crying in his arms.

-Louis, Harry murmured, squeezing him even tighter against him.

The scene could have seemed strange, but that wasn't the case; the few passengers that had witnessed the impact were now looking at them with soft eyes and smiles.

The hug they shared was comforting, but also painful, violent, oppressive; the tears rolled down, wetting their cheeks and clothes continuously, their bodies pressing against each other with so much strength and will that it was painful. Physically and mentally.

Physically, because their tense grip covered their skin with shivers; because of how hard they were hugging the other.

It was also painful mentally, because what was currently happening was the end result of seven weeks, three days, twenty-three hours and fifty-two minutes of shared pain; because all that pain they had lived with silently was finally exploding, because the shock of finding each other again was too hard to handle, because their separation had hurt them and left them with scars.

Maybe it was also because they were tired of playing and having to run after each other like kids.

That hug lasted, making the seconds last, temporarily blocking the sun and the moon stop.  
That hug lasted long enough for the two men to find each other like the first day, without having to torture themselves.  
And when they finally let go, Louis moved his face back to stare into the emerald eyes in front of him.  
Through his tears, it wasn't difficult for him to understand the clear and dark thoughts that were happening inside of his mind, his irises screaming that it was all over, that the nightmare was over because the were reunited again.  
His lips hadn't stopped moving, and it's only when Harry decided to look down to read what he was saying that he confirmed what he already knew:

-I'm sorry; I remember, I remember, Harry, I'm sorry, forgive me, I'm sorry...

Alain and again, his raspy voice kept on repeating the same thing, bringing even more tears in Harry's eyes, who couldn't believe what was happening.

-I love you, I love you, do you understand, Haz? I love you.

The words had been spoken quickly, the words crushed against each other. But it wasn't a problem, it wasn't a problem because he couldn't hear them, so Harry read them, he read each of these words on his Louis' lips, his Louis, his Louis, who remembered who he was.

But destiny had a price to pay for daring to be so brave, and suddenly, their bubble of intimacy was popped: Louis was unsteady on his feet, threatening to collapse on the ground at any time.  
The Earth started spinning normally again and gravity brought them back to reality, taking them away from the temporary fog they had been wrapped in.  
But Louis didn't fall when his legs stopped worked, because where his body should have met the ground, Harry's arms caught him easily.

-Louis?, he called, his trembling voice filled with worry when he noticed his boyfriend had closed his eyes.

_ _I'm okay_ , the latter sighed with one hand, the other still clutching Harry's to make sure he wouldn't run away.

_ _Are you sure_?

Louis' eyes fluttered open and he forced himself to let go of Harry.

-My heart hurts, he confessed.

_ _Do you want a-_

-My heart has been aching since I understood you were gone, Haz.

The man's voice broke, and even though Harry couldn't hear it, he saw on his face that he was hurt.

-Your letter.. You left me a letter, and you left, Haz; you weren't there when I woke up, and I remembered...

Tears escaped Louis' eyes, rolling down his cheeks furiously.

-I remembered...

For the second time in less than ten minutes, the curly boy's heart shattered: he had only seen Louis cry a few times, and knowing he was the only cause for those tears only made it more painful.  
He had stopped breathing and didn't dare to look him in the eyes, staring at the floor instead.

-I'm sorry...

Harry had murmured in a little, weak voice, a tiny voice that only managed to crush the oldest's stomach and make his irises shine in protest.

-You haven't done anything; it's not your fault. You haven't done anything, Harry, do you hear me? I'm not allowing you to blame yourself like you've been doing those last few works. What I said was mean and I didn't mean it; it was under the effects of anger and even now, I can't believe I went that far. It's not your fault, nothing is your fault, okay?

He had spoken the words slowly to allow him to read them on his lips. His palms had eventually let go of Harry's trembling hands, laying on each side of his face instead.

-I don't want you to board that plane, Harry, I don't want you to leave.

Blue met green again, making the message even stronger. Louis wiped Harry's tears away with his thumb, softly.

-And I don't want to change either; I love your sensitive side, Angel.

Sentence that only made Harry cry harder. The nickname, that nickname was the one Louis had been using for him since the beginning, the one he hadn't recognized while reading his letter, the letter he had written.

Angel.

-Harry, Louis continued softly, intertwining their fingers again, when Niall went to the flat to get you; and when he called to tell us he was too late...

His voice broke again.

-I was lost.. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, that you had left with it... Your phone was shut, holy shit, don't ever shut it off again!

He allowed himself a small break, because the emotions were too strong and the memories too vivid. He needed to sort everything out in hid head and try not to burst into tears again. He wasn't allowed to, because Harry would feel guilty, and he had no reason to.  
Harry had been strong for him during all the time that his amnesia had lasted, accepting each of his mistakes; so it was his turn to accept the pain without complaining, it was his turn to be strong for the one he loved.  
His eyes were burning, but he decided to focus only on the perfect sensation of Harry's hand in his, of their hips brushing against each other.  
And it worked; so he continued:

-Then I told them to leave me alone, he murmured slowly, still avoiding Harry's eyes. I told them I didn't want to see anyone, and they all left. Then, I put on some clothes, I waited five minutes to be sure I wouldn't see them in the hallways, and I left; I took a cab and...

_ _You could have given up._

-I know, Louis replied calmly, but I didn't want to; not even when I didn't have an idea of where to look for you. Think about leaving me some clues, next time.

A light smiled crossed the youngest's face and he shook his hand, squeezing Louis' hand in his.

_ _I don't want there to be a next time_.

-Me neither, Louis assured, shaking his head at this thought. Anyway, you had written « I managed to book a ticket for a flight that leaves tonight ». It was half past seven when I read it, so tonight meant I still had four hours and thirty minutes.  
He brought their intertwined fingers against his t-shirt and tried his best not to throw himself into Harry's arms again; he couldn't do that. He couldn't, because he needed to finish his story and explain.

-At that moment, he continued softly, I think I didn't care if it was too late, if you were already in the plane fastening your seatbelt. The « tonight » wasn't over and I didn't want to let you go without fighting, without trying everything I could to get you back.

He stopped and his serious face turned into a smug grin.

-I have an Irish friend who once told me: « better live your life with remorse than regrets ».

Joke that managed to loosen up the atmosphere, because Harry laughed lightly through his tears.

_ _You'll have to introduce me to him, then_ , Harry joked.  
-I know.

They both looked down at their clasped hand, noticing the perfect way they fit together.

_ _How did you know which airport to go to?_

-I'd like to tell you my sixth sense led me to you, that destiny helped up and shit, but we both know that's not the case so; to be honest? I didn't know. When I stepped into the cab and the guy asked me where I wanted to go, I realized there were six bloody airports in London and you could be at any of them if you hadn't left already.

_ _So why Heathrow?_

-Because that's the one we flew from when we went to Amsterdam a year ago.

_ _You remember._

 __Yes_ , he continued, signing this time.  _I remember. I remember that you have the most annoying hait to class everything by alphabetical order, that you like tea but only want to drink yours with sugar and a bit of honey; I also remember that you hate salsify and never cook any, but you always cook me aubergines even though I hate it._

They both smiled, and Louis continued.

__I remember I'm in love with you, Harry Styles._

It was beautiful; it was so beautiful that the tears were rolling down their cheeks again, both still not believing what was happening.  
If it was a dream, then Harry never wanted to wake up, he didn't want to hurt again. If it was a dream, then he wanted to die in his sleep, die while holding Louis between his arms, reading on his lips that he over him and watch his hands sigh that he remembered.

But it wasn't a dream. No, it wasn't.

_ _You look a little pale._

__You know, I escaped from a hospital, even though they had forbidden that I left, and I literally ran a marathon to get to you; I think I'm allowed to be a little pale, right?_

Another smiled painted itself on Harry's face and Louis looked down at their hands again.

 __I remembered you, Haz_ , he signed after a moment.  _I had flashbacks, many flashbacks, actually; I hadn't forgotten about you. But they weren't like the others, they didn't appear in the middle of a conversation or because of some trigger: they were in my dreams. I had dreams about you, Harry._

Neither of them spoke, but their eyes were staring at each other, the silent memories unfolding in their heads.  
God knows they had a lot to say to each other, a lot to explain and catch up on; but time wasn't their enemy, the future was theirs just as much as the past and they didn't need to run anymore.

-I have something for you, Louis murmured, turning around to grab something in his back pocket.

It wasn't supposed to be emotional, it wasn't even supposed to be romantic, it was just something he had bought quickly in a random shop as soon as he saw the brown lass of curls in this airport.  
But when Harry realized the package was actually a bag of sweet popcorn, his heart drowned in tears of happiness, once again.

_ _Angel_ , Louis finally signed, caressing Harry's wet cheek.  _I promised you I'd be back._


	26. extra chapter no1

 

 

 

" **Christmas** **isn't** **a** **day** **or** **a** **season** , **it's** **a** **mindset** ". - **Calvin** **Coolidge**.

 

***

 

It had been over eight months now. Eight months since the nightmare had ended, eight months since Louis came back from the hospital for the second and last time, eight months since he had recovered al of his memories, since he found Harry at the airport.

 

Eight months since he had found Harry at the airport.

 

The month of december was already reaching its end and snow was slowly falling down the sky in tiny snowflakes. Christmas time was noticeable everywhere around the young boy, wo was waiting in one of the cafés alongside the Thames. It was visible in the strings of red fabric that decorated the bar, in the sticky stencils stuck to the windows, in the crowns of bright lights around the streetlights, making the streets look even prettier.

 

Louis was sat at a table, next to the fire place.

 

It was almost 3:40pm and contrary to what people might think, the Starbucks wasn't crowded; only a couple of tourists and a few other students were present.

 

He glanced at his watch for the fifth time and sighed amusedly; he would never manage to get his boyfriend to be on time.

 

Boyfriend.

 

The word made him smile and the fine and delicate fce of said boyfriend painted itself in his head.

 

-Let me guess, Edward joked as he walked past him, a tray with two cups in his hands. Harry's late?

 

-He's hopeless, I swear.

 

The redhead obvioulsy understood that his comment was ironic. He placed two cups in front of the boy: his usual double cappucino with extra sugar and vanilla cream as well asa cup of strawberry tea that he had ordered for his boy- who was now fifteen minutes late. He was supposed to stop by Lily's to drop off the camera he had borrowed her a few days ago, but apparently, he had fallen into a manhole in the meantime. That thought amused him, and he checked his watch again, right as the door opened, announcing the arrival of a new client. Louis' eyes immediately darted to the entrance and a stupid smile covered his face instantly.

 

He was there.

 

The boy with the messy brown curls who had stolen his heart almost five years ago; that same green-eyed boy who made his rainy days happy, the boy with the aquiline nose, adorable dimples, smooth skin and extremely hot hands.

 

The boy called Harry who was walking towards him, his pink and attractive lips stretching into a smile.

 

_Hi, he signed, sitting down in front of Louis. I'm terribly late and I don't have any valid excuses but I'm sorry.

 

_Forgiven.

 

The youngest man smiled again and he took off his green beanie, ruffling his brown curls, that had grown way too long over time. Louis had tried getting him an appointment at a hairdressers a few weeks back, but Harry had refused and called them back to cancel, so Louis had dropped the case.

 

And when he thought about it, it didn't bother him that much, because he still thought Harry was gorgeous; but he was disappointed that the length of his hair made the curls a little less perfect.

 

_Thank you, Harry signed, looking down at the steaming hot cup in front of him.

 

_I thought it would make you arrive faster and, I have to admit, it looks like you've got a sixth sense to detect the smell of tea, angel.

 

For only answer, he only received a confused look from Harry.

 

_It worked all the previous times, Louis added with a mischevious grin.

 

_Just a coïncidence, I'm sure.

 

The oldest then burst out laughing, shaking his head, and he grabbed a biscuit that had been placed next to his cup.

 

_We should start Christmas shopping...

 

_We should also get a Christmas tree, the curly-haired boy added, cupping his mug between his cold hands.

 

-What?!, Louis retorted, offended. Didn't you like the Christmas coat hanger I made you last year?

 

He remembered. And he wasn't kidding.

 

He had actually taken the time to decorate a plain wooden coat hanger in lieu of Christmas tree. He had dressed it up with pink, red, orange and blue baubles, with electric colourful lights and had even pushed the fantasy far enough to spray it with a can of 'forest smell'. "To make it seem even more realistic", he had declared.

 

Let's be real, they hadn't done it just for fun; the two boys were close to being broke at that time, and they had thought it would be better to forget about a Christmas tree. But not this year.

 

_Lou? Harry signed softly after a few minutes of silence.

 

But it wasn't an awkward or tense silence; it was peaceful and happy and clearly reflected the constant bliss they had been living in for eight months now.

 

_Yes?

 

Their eyes met and a stupid smile broke onto his face. But he coulnd't help it, he still couldn't believe the boy in front of him was his.

 

Of course he remembered everything that had happened that year, all the challenges he had to fight through, the yelling and the fights they had had: they had almost lost each other.

 

So in the end, maybe that was what allowed them to love each other more than they did the previous day, the previous week, a month ago, eight months ago... a year.

 

Harry started signing again, bringing him back to reality, and Louis silently asked him to repeat.

 

_I wanted to know if were going to visit your mum for Christmas Eve.

 

Louis shook his head and laughed again, putting his silver spoon down so he could sign.

 

_Nah, she cancelled when I told her you were taking pole dance lessons for my birthday.

 

_What?!

 

Surprise and embarrassment appeared so suddenly on Harry's face that the other boy quickly corrected himself:

 

_I'm just kidding, you can relax, Haz. I told her we wanted to celebrate Christmas and my twenty-second birthday at home but we'd visit her for the New Year.

 

As he read the sentence on Louis' hands, all the muscles in Harry's body relaxed and he felt himself breathe again.

 

_You're stupid, Louis Tomlinson.

 

A joyful and happy laugh broke the silence of the bar and even though he didn't hear it, Harry figured the sound could be nothing but as beautiful as the sight in front of him: perfectly aligned teeth, the flames of the fireplace reflecting onto his flushed cheeks, and his blue eyes that shined stronger than ever. Louis was gorgeous.

 

_I know, he simply replied once he calmed down.

 

*

 

It was almost night when the boys came back to their flat, and the few snowflakes they had admired earlier had turned into a quick storm of snow that was freezing the streets.

 

_Do you know what all this snow reminds me of?, Louis asked, joining Harry in front of the window in the living room.

 

He had just placed a sweet and loving kiss right next to his collarbone, catching the boy's attention. Harry shook his head.

 

_It reminds me of the first time I kissed you.

 

The mention of this memory made Harry look down, and he bit his tongue to control the sudden flow of sadness that flooded through his body.

And it wasn't because he was sad or angry, it was because the reminder of this memory also reminded him of the three months during which Louis didn't remember any of that.

He couldn't help it, even though his mind was yelling at him that it was just a stupid dream, that it wouldn't ever happen again, that his love was right there, next to him, and he remembered.

Even now, eight months later, Harry still wasn't able to forget about it. He wasn't blaming Louis, oh no. Louis had nothing to do with all that. It was just him.

Him and his stupid head that refused to make the difference between the past and the present.

 

In the end, maybe he was scared to be abandoned again, like his parents had abandoned him, and like he thought Louis would.

He trusted the boy so much, but his mind just didn't want to-

 

-Haz?, the oldest murmured, taking Harry out of his thoughts.

 

He hadn't signed, but had joined his words with a kiss, laid delicately on the boy's jaw. But it didn't make him react, so Louis grabbed his waist to make Harry face him. He knew what was currently happening; Harry had never actually told him about it, but Louis knew. He knew the boy struggled with the events that had almost made their love story disappear; he knew he still struggled to believe that someone could love him. And if Louis knew about that, it was because he knew him, he only needed a glance, or a smile, to understand everything that was going through his head.

 

_Angel, he signed, brushing his curls softly. I love you.

 

A tear rolled down Harry's cheekbone and he smiled through his tears to hide how stupid he felt. Of course he knew that, of course Louis loved him. But he was acting childish; maybe it was because of the Christmas Spirit?

 

-I love you, his raspy and trembling voice replied as he wiped his cheek.

 

And he couldn't have made Louis happier, because hearing Harry's voice was his reason to live.

 

So he leaned forward and slid his arm around the green-eyed boy's back, bringing him closer because Harry had just made a huge effort.

He knew it was difficult for him to talk, to use his voice; but he was doing it for him, to tell him to he loved him.

 

Their lips brushed against each other quickly, then they both took a step back, keeping their faces a few millimeters away from each other; just enough to allow them to make it count, to make the kiss matter. They let their breath mix, their eyes met and blue met green again.

Louis' fingers ran back up Harry's spine to tangle themselves in his curls, and Harry gripped his boyfriend's hips softly.

Then, once again, their lips met and their embrace tightened, their tongues playing together in a stupid fight. Because in the end, there was no winner or loser, they won the fight ex æquo in a firework of rainbow lights.

Butterflies flew in their stomachs and the sparks that exploded around them showed how special this moment was. It was magical, the kiss was magical.

 

The kiss mattered.

 

*

 

_A little more to the left, Louis signed, stood next to the white leather couch.

 

They were busy moving the Christmas tree to make sure it would be in the perfect place, but they had been moving it for over fifteen minutes now.

 

_If I move it to the left, it won't be centered with the window, Harry noted, raising an eyebrow.

 

_Yes, but it will hide the pretty burnt spot on the rug.

 

A blush crept his way onto Harry's cheeks, who immediately did what the boy had advised him, and the plant now stood on top of the burnt spot.

 

_I would have liked it if you had forgotten about that memory...

 

The signs were hurried; showing that he wasn't joking. The older boy was laughing silently, but he hurried to place a loud kiss onto Harry's cheek, before stealing his beanie.

 

-Oi!

 

The shout of indignation made Louis burst out laughing, and he grabbed Harry by the hips, bringing him closer to him as he was about to run away to escape him. They both fell on the couch, flinching when it moved under the impact.

Harry collapsed on top of Louis, laughing, and he turned around so that their foreheads ended up pressed against each other.

 

-Of course I remember about that night, Louis laughed, combing a loose curl behind Harry’s ear. His eyes were staring at his mouth, drinking the words that fell from it. He couldn’t sign, because Harry was quite heavy and blocked him from using his legs or arms. But he didn’t mind, because he wouldn’t have changed his place for anything in the world. He was being choked under the man of his dreams, so what?

 

It was where he belonged; next to Harry.

 

-I remember coming home from Doncaster on a Sunday evening, after having spent an entire weekend with my mum and sisters. I remember that I missed you so much and I expected to find you asleep in bed, because it was fucking late.

 

He paused to allow Harry some time to read everything on his lips, his warm breath brushing against the boy’s face.

 

-But when I entered the flat, you were there. You were waiting, next to the couch. You had placed candles everywhere; on the sofa, on the shelves, on the tables, on the frames too. It was so beautiful, Harry..

 

The latter smiled and leaned forward to kiss Louis’ nose, making him giggle.

 

-You had cooked my favourite meal too. Mac and cheese.

 

Another kiss.

 

-And I think I didn’t even have time to close the door that you were already all over me; wrapping your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist.

 

He saw sparkles light up in the green irises when they met his again.

 

-Whenever we walked back to the couch to lay down, you kicked one of the candles, because you’re that clumsy.

Harry frowned, only to make Louis laugh, and he stole another kiss.

 

-But we didn’t realize right away, because honestly, I was too busy staring at you, and you were messing with my hair.

 

This time, Harry’s loud and clear laugh filled the room, and again, Louis’ lips shut him up.

 

-Actually, we only realized what was happening when the flame reached the sofa.

 

Harry moved to sign, allowing Louis to sit up a little straighter, proud of his anecdote.

 

_It’s embarrassing, you’re supposed to be the clumsy one, Harry signed, trying to keep himself from grinning.

 

_Not that time, he rolled his eyes.

 

_So, are we going to decorate that Christmas tree, or what?

 

Their fingers intertwined, they finally stood up and got to work.

 

*

 

The Christmas tree was beautiful that year. It was as beautiful as the thousand sparks that shone in the boys’ eyes on the morning of December 24th. It was as beautiful as the white landscapes outside of their window.

 

Harry was the first one to open his eyes in the round bed; he was the first one to roll on his sign, letting out a quiet yawn and staring at his sleepy boyfriend. His eyes were still closed and he was breathing through his mouth silently. The sun was hitting his tanned skin and his hair was almost golden.

He was gorgeous, and he was his.

 

Louis was twenty-two today, it was his birthday, and it was also Christmas Eve.

 

A stupid smile appeared on the younger boy’s face, and he moved his legs softly to straddle Louis’ hips. He felt him groan under him and hid a smile.

He had worked so hard for what was about to happen; he had worked on the prononciation with the boys, repeating a million times, articulating again and again with the help of Niall, Liam and Zayn. He had also visited Lily a few days ago, lying to Louis and telling him he was returning her camera.

That was the reason why he was late at the cafe; because he wanted to practice again.

And it wasn’t easy; it wasn’t easy for a deaf person to talk; to articulate more than a syllable.

But it wasn’t just a syllable to Harry was about to whisper in Louis’ ear; it was more than that.

 

-Happy birthday, Louis William Tomlinson.

 

His voice was still trembling, still raspy and weak; but it had spoken every single letter perfectly. He was sure.

 

And that was what woke the English man next to him; the clear tone that sounded like music to Louis’ ears.

 

His eyelids fluttered open quickly and his blue irises dug into Harry’s.

And that’s when time stopped, and their heartbeat quickened; because of the surprise, the joy, because of their quick breathing. Because of the bubble of intimacy that was floating around them, taking them away from the real world. Nothing else mattered.

 

The oldest’s hand slid against Harry’s forearm, his eyes screaming his request.

 

\- Happy birthday, Louis Tomlinson, Harry repeated, biting his lip again.


End file.
